Keeping Secrets
by FirstYear
Summary: Hiding her past, her husbands crimes, and her daughters disability, Kendra Dumbledore will never know that the fate of the world will rest in her son's hands. All she will see is his impending trip into darkness.
1. Kendra's First Secret

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

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**In my story, Honoria is Percival's sister, although cannon only says she was Albus' Aunt and it is unsure as to which parents family she belonged. However, unlike cannon she is not a spinster. Also, I have taken Harry's comment that Kendra's picture looked like a Native American and used that as her background, it is but a small piece of the story but keeps cannon.  
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**Keeping Secrets**

**Chapter 1**

**Kendra's First Secret**

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He had first seen her at the market in the middle of April of 1865, April 18th to be exact. He would always remember the way she had hastily folded the paper with the picture of her dead president's face turned down as she stood to wait on him. She pushed the paper further to the side, as if not wanting him to know that this was where she came from and that the news meant more than he would understand. Perhaps she was right; he would think many years later that he would never understand her. The freedom for which she searched was a far more personal thing than he could have understood at that time or ever.

She was tending a stall that sold simple cures that most cunning women sold, stomach and headache remedies, incense that should be burnt during childbirth to lessen the pain and salves to keep hands from chafing in the winter storms. He had bought a pot of salve, unable to ignore her uplifted brow and unspoken question as she had looked at his un-callused palms.

"You think I have made a bad choice?" he questioned, dropping his coin into her hand.

"You have hands of a scholar," she had muttered in her strange flat accent. "It is a waste of your money to purchase a guard against hard work in bad weather when you do none. Perhaps you have the vanity of a woman?"

He had paused, with his hand outstretched, ready to berate her for the way she addressed him until he had looked up and seen a hidden laughter in her eyes. "Perhaps I vainly wanted to meet the woman that sells it."

Dropping her gaze back to her table of wares she had shook her head and turned away from him, leaving him standing, ignored and forgotten, as she busied herself and waited for her next customer.

He watched her the rest of the day, glancing back at the stall, seeing her smile and laugh as she sold her goods and called out to passersby, hawking her potions. He found himself mesmerised by her carriage and the way she would lower down, keeping her back straight, never bending her waist as she fell into a perfect position to pick up more stock from the ground, her skirt pooling around her feet, and lift it effortlessly to the table.

As the clock in the tower moved towards noon, the vendors began to pack up and head home. Walking slowly back to the beginning of the lane he was disappointed to find her stall already emptied and her gone. Quickly hurrying to the butcher, he picked up the joint he had originally came for and stopped at the green grocer for what else was on the list.

"How did it go?" His mother pulled out the small brown vegetable with a look of disgust. "I told you to get the potatoes from Flannery. He has the new spring crop sent in from Germany, these are from last year."

"They are fine," he sighed, not interested in her meal planning. "I have things to do. I told Graham I would help him with his studies this evening."

"Will you be taking Sunday dinner there as well?" He mother stopped what she was doing to watch him closely.

"As always," he sighed. "No, I have not spoken for her if that is what you are asking."

"It would be a good match. The sister of a good friend and the oldest daughter of a good pureblood family would make for strong ties. You could do worse and I could finally see grandchildren."

"Perhaps when I finish my studies."

"By which time she will be taken. She does not get any younger. Seventeen already and her mother is looking at suitors."

Percival clenched his jaw and went up to his room, not wanting to have this conversation with his mother yet again. Every Friday she would revisit her need to have grandchildren and every Saturday she would walk the market talking to any woman with a girl of marriageable age trying to arrange an invitation to dinner for him. He wondered for a fleeting moment if his mother could see the beauty of she that worked in the market stall, or if it was only the family's bloodline she saw.

Over the next few weeks, he lost track of the woman at the market. One day she was not there and over time, he had stopped looking for her, forgetting that once he would walk to the market in hopes that he would see her.

His studies ended and it was time that he toured Europe, as was done by all the gentle people of the time. He visited the museums and great landscapes that he had known only from books before he settled down to his life' work. Alone by choice, much to the consternation of his father and smouldering anger of his mother, he spent his days in his small study selling his translations and handwritten tomes.

There was much to be made by translating the ancient texts to modern languages and as students became lazier in learning foreign tongues he found more and more demands put upon him. Although his coffers grew, he was often lonely and alone. Time passed, until one day he was surprised to find his youngest sister, only a child when he had started his career, was now a married woman with children of her own while he still laboured on the top floor of his boyhood home.

As dutiful as an uncle, as he had been a son, he found himself once again walking to the market, a small hand tucked in his, a list of what was needed for the day's meals crammed in his pocket. Not able to find a child's stomach remedy that his sister had scribbled on his list, he stopped at a vendor table and asked for directions, only to be waved to an almost empty stall tended by an old woman.

"My granddaughter is gone. I now only sell herbs and such, no tonics," the woman whispered, glancing over his shoulder to make sure they were not overheard.

"Perhaps she will find the time to brew. I will pay extra to have it delivered," he said, handing her a name card. "My sister's youngest is in distress."

"I am sorry sir." She pushed the card back at him. "I have lost her."

"Lost you say," he stammered, grabbing up the card and hastily sliding it back in his pocket. "I…I am sorry for your loss."

"You do not know?" The old woman's eyes filled with unshed tears. "Have her at the Bailey they do. Say she did awful things, things she would never do."

"I am sorry," he muttered, holding his nephew's hand tightly, wanting to leave. "I am sure her solicitor will take care of her."

"He can't make sense of it. Not many there are that can. She brews the old way, her receipts in the old tongue."

Percival studied the woman's face as he listened to what she said. "Who speaks for her?"

"One I don't know and does not know her, a Faris Spavin he is. Not known around here. He sent me a letter, he did, a nice letter but no return. I don't know how to contact him and he is not known at the post."

"Faris Spavin?" His eyes locked on hers unable to tell if she knew who this man was or if she were shielding her granddaughter not knowing who he was. "This granddaughter of yours, she is a …cunning woman? Nothing more?"

"She knows the tonics but never would she do what they accuse her of."

"And? What is her crime?"

"They say she caused Mrs. Rodham to lose her child. That she did it on purpose, but she never would…never would she do such a thing."

"I know this…Mr. Spavin, would it help if I were to speak to him?"

"Kind sir," she cried, her eyes finally spilling her tears. "I will find her receipt for what you ask. Perhaps a smart man such as your self could find the ingredients and have another make it for your kind sister."

"Fine, fine. Send it to me. Your Granddaughter… her name?"

"Kendra she is called, Kendra Whetstones. A good girl she is."

He again handed her the card, and turning smartly on his heel as he took his nephew home and began packing at once for a trip to London.

"Why are you getting involved?" His mother demanded.

"She must be a witch, and as such needs to be protected," he muttered angrily. "Why didn't we know of her? If she lives right here we should have been aware if she is a witch."

"Mr. Spavin will…"

"Faris will be there only to insure the Secrecy Act is enforced. He has no more intention of looking into the matter than that. Bloody hell, he would have her condemned if he thought it would protect him and his salary."

"And you? Why you? "

Percival had to stop and clear his mind before answering, not sure himself why he was doing what he was. "It is the right thing to do." Was the only response he could give as he picked up his bag and stalked out of the door.

He could not make contact with Faris, even at the Ministry he was a hard man to see. Percival made an appointment for the following day only to wakeup to two owls tapping on his sill. The first post was from his mother, who had already received the book of cures from Kendra's grandmother. She had ripped out the page for the potion that had been brewed for the pregnant woman and put hasty notes on the side. The second post was from Faris, saying simply that he was satisfied the witch would not give up her secrets.

He pulled his wand and reduced Faris' response to ash, furious that the Ministry of Magic would not extend a hand of welcome to an unknown witch. She could not have been raised locally he knew and he wondered why she had never made herself known to the magical community once she had come her to live with her grandmother. Dressing with care he prepared to set out for the court, wanting to get there early enough to ensure a seat in the public section. He flagged down a carriage and gave his destination, not surprised at the look of disgust on the diver's face.

Entering the back of the courtroom, he found Kendra already standing at the bar and the King's solicitor questioning her. Finding a seat, he craned his neck to look over the spectators and caught his breath when he recognised the girl…now woman, in front of him. She was the one, he remembered, the one that he had watched years previously. Now, she looked dishevelled and ill kempt, not the neat and near regal woman he remembered her to be. Her high cheekbones set off dark circles under her eyes, making them darker and larger. Her normally bronzed skin tone was pasty and blotched and her fingernails caked with dirt and grim. Yet, she stood proudly, every hair in place, her hands lightly resting on the railing in front of her.

"How did you come by treating Mrs. Rodham?"

"I go to _tend_, as is my custom as midwife, once I am collected when needed. However, this time I received a notice from her husband that he wished me to _tend_ her and paid the way myself."

"And what condition did you find her in?"

"The babe turned, sideways he was. Not strong, a weak fluttering is all. I could not find his heart. Weak…weak he was."

"So, there was movement in the womb?"

"Yes."

"Is that when you decided to kill the unborn?"

She looked at him coldly, knowing the question was but a trap. If she answered even with a no, she was admitting that she had planned to kill the child, only not until later. Her eyes flickered up to the bench where the Judge sat, uncertainty and confusion plainly on her face. Percival saw her hand move ever so quickly as her fingers curled inward, forming a fist, before opening into a more submissive pose. He studied her posture, closed his eyes, feeling magic radiate off her, and let out a breath of relief as he felt her calmness fighting for control over her anger.

He found himself enthralled by the quick banter and ease with which she answered, only to fall silent and make no attempt to talk when another trap was set. He frowned, fingering the receipt in his pocket, knowing there was not way he could get it into evidence, not now, not once the trial had started and it was obvious that her solicitor had no interest in her, only seeming to agree with the court that she was guilty.

"How many good women have you treated?"

"Treated? I treat none."

"No? Yet you attend them."

"Yes sir, and prepare the tonic as is needed. The Physician treats the mothers. I may only attend to their needs that he has laid out."

"I see, and how did you attend to a mother's need in a case such as this?"

"If a babe be weak, the mother needs to stimulate her appetite. That, or a tonic to give the babe what it needs but is lacking may be given. The Physician must decide what it is for me to make the tonic."

"How do you know what to put in your tonic?"

"There was no tonic needed by the babe. Mrs. Rodham still insisted on wearing bone stays to force her figure to what she wanted, not to what the babe…"

"Answer the question."

"She was a vain woman that…"

"Answer the question…what did the babe need that you could put in a tonic? What was in the medicine?"

Kendra raised her head, the muscles in her throat becoming taunt and hard. "He needed breath."

"And your…tonic…it was to give him breath?"

"No, it was to cause the mother discomfort in the wearing of her corset. Once she realized what it did she took no more."

"How was this to …"

"Councillor, I think we have heard enough. She fully admits to brewing the concoction. She took it on herself to determine what to brew and it was not for the child but in her own opinion of how to punish the mother. In doing so, it is obvious from Dr. Watkins comments that the child was aborted. Do you have anything to say in your own defence Miss Whetstones?"

"No."

The judge raised a small wooden hammer and brought it down, a sharp retort signalling the end of the trial. "I deem you guilty as charged. You will be branded and fined one hundred pounds, payable before your release. If you are unable to pay this amount, you are to be remanded to the women's prison to await transportation. Have you any questions."

"No."

"Further, you are hereby refused the right to practice the profession as midwife or to keep company with those that do. Your licence to dispense tonics will also be under review. You will be notified by the magistrate of your new district if he deems fit to renew it. "

Kendra turned her back on the court, waiting of the small half gate to open, and then followed the beefy guard out. Percival flinched at the sound of a chain suspended between manacles, hindering her steps. Rising slowly, he left the courtroom and walked out into the sun feeing he had done his duty in witnessing her tribulation.

The next morning he packed his small case with the intention of going home, only at the last moment sighing deeply and heading back to the Bailey. Not surprised that her punishment had been meted out and she released from the Bailey to a prison guard. With a deep sigh, knowing he would hear his mother's wrath, he inquired as to her whereabouts.

"Signing her papers," the bailiff shrugged. "Be keeping her here until her fine gets paid. That or send her out for transportation."

"Transportation? I am sorry, I…"

"There are places she is needed. Crown gets rid of her and she goes where…"

"It will be paid," he said tersely, understanding that the crown still sent convicts to far off colonies and an unsheltered witch on a transport ship would not stand much of a chance of arriving at her destination. "Direct me to the clerk's office."

He stood in the back of the room watching as she signed her papers, holding the quill carefully in her hand and grimacing with each letter she wrote. He waited as she proceeded down a long table, stopping periodically to initial a document or again sign her name. Pushing away from the wall, he strode to the door, intending to meet her as she left the room where a guard waited to take her to prison.

"Hey, you…" one of the guards called to her, a smirk on his face. "Only one way a tart like you will see a hundred pound note. You want me to bring a few friends? Be out in no time if you can be friendly."

Percival saw her chin lift, her eyes grow cold and her head turn slowly to the offending laughter that was filling the room. He perceived, rather then saw, a slight raise of her hand, a mere rotation of her wrist as the chair holding up the loud mouth oaf crashed to the floor and she spun on her heel and stood glaring at her escort. Percival slipped the guard a quid and hastily whispered what he wanted. Catching up Kendra's elbow, he pulled her to the side as the guard stepped back to give them privacy.

"Not a wise display of power in such a place." He scowled her as if she were an errant child. "Come with me. I will pay your fine and I have a carriage waiting."

She pulled back and looked at him appraisingly, as if sorting through her many offers and comparing his against the others. "Your name sir?"

"Percival, Percival Dumbledore. I am here at the bequest of your grandmother," he said with a hint of amusement. "Does it really matter?"

"My grandmother would never ask for you to come this far for me nor would she ever beg of money. Tell me your business."

He grabbed her right hand and turned it over, exposing the brand that she had received only an hour before. Locking his eyes on hers, he passed his wand over her open palm, muttering a quiet incantation that took away the pain and healed skin at once.

"The scar should remain. It is something they may check later."

"I have been told there are others like me," she whispered. "A man came before the trial. He said to keep my silence and he would not press more charges when I was done here. I believed him. I believed him when he said things would work out."

"How could you not know of us?" He studied her face closely.

She yanked her hand away from him and tried to walk away as he held her upper arm in a vice like grip, leading her to the cashier's desk and paid her fine, then took her out of the building and to the queue of carriages. Shoving her into the one he had rented he gave the driver orders to the train station and climbed in with her, setting a silencing spell as he sat.

"I cannot pay you," she choked out, keeping her gaze from his face. "I have only one book I can sell."

"We will speak of that later," he sighed, leaning back in the carriage and studying her face. "Are you trained?"

"Trained?"

"School…did you attend school."

"I can read and know my numbers," she said flatly.

"Have you heard of Hogwarts? Durmstrang? Perhaps you went…"

"I learned all I need from my mother and before her my father."

"Yet you live with your grandmother."

"Now," she said quietly as she dared glance at his face. "I lived in America until they died."

"I see," he muttered. "Your father was English?"

"Welch."

"Was he like you? Able to do things others could not? Magical…wonderful things."

"My mother said he could." She looked up at him seductively, a smile playing on her face.

Percival sat up straighter, tugging the suddenly too tight collar away from his throat. "Your mother?'

"A Navaho."

"I… I am not familiar with…"

"What are you after? I am not a horse you are buying or a blanket being inspected."

"Did you mother…was she able to…" he stopped seeing her raise her eyebrow and begin to smile. "Merlin, I am trying to help you here."

"I know and I do appreciate your efforts. You do however, put me in a position of debt. A debt I am afraid I cannot pay." Her smile slipped as she looked out the carriage window, unable to look at him. Turning her hand over, she stared at the brand and touched it with the finger of her opposite hand. "A strange custom this."

"The brand used to be placed on the face, or a hand taken off," Percival said flatly. "This is much more humane. By their standards at least."

"In my father's world the punishment would have been to lock me up for a set time."

"In your mother's"

"In my mother's?" She laughed and leaned back, at last relaxing into the seat. "Mrs. Rodham would have been the one locked up. Once the babe was born it would have been taken from her, and she exiled. Things like this did not happen in my mother's world. Her's are not a people of vanity."

"Not once did you say you were innocent of harming the child." He leaned forward and studied her.

"Women are guilty at birth, are they not? A man accuses, a woman pays." She turned and again set her eyes to watch the streets outside the carriage. "I am tired, tired of finding my place. Even here blood is measured by wealth and honour put in things beyond one's control."

"The blood, yes. Not the honour," he said. "However, there are other ways of measuring worth. If you give me your trust, and your promise of secrecy I can show you a world hidden from others. A world you belong in."

She turned back to him, watching him closely as the carriage lurched to a stop and the driver called out to them that they were at their destination. Percival purchased a private compartment for the train ride north, settling in next to the window, he looked at her questionably when she stood , not sitting.

"I will ask for a separate compartment or I will sit in the coach," she muttered, ill at ease and suspicious.

"You will sit in here with my assurance that I have no designs on you. I am sure you can defend yourself from the little display I say at the Bailey."

She reddened and sat stiffly by the door, as far from him a possible.

"Kendra, I mean you no harm," he said gently. "If I wanted more from you I would have taken my pleasure in the carriage and not spent a hundred pounds plus the cost of the train."

She smiled at him, feeling foolish and childish. Standing, she looked in an overhead cupboard and pulled down a blanket and a pillow. Stretching out on the bench seat opposite him, refusing his offer to pull down a berth, she was asleep within moments.

Percival sat watching her sleep. Wondering how long it had been since she had gotten a full nights rest. He noticed how the cuff of her sleeve did not hug her skin, and saw the loose fitting collar that rode down on her throat. He felt foolish for not having thought to feed her before heading to the train or for a packing lunch. He stood and brushed off his trousers, locking the compartment door behind him he set off looking for the food cart.

She slept until it was almost dark, then sat up smoothing her skirt and accepted the sandwich and cup of tea he offered her. She ate slowly, feeling her stomach clench with each swallow. Admitting to him, she had gone without food for the last three days, her merge funds having run out. Passing her hand over the tea, she warmed it and drank it down watching Percival over the rim of the cup. Setting down the empty vessel, she glanced outside.

"We will be there shortly," she sighed. "I will embarrass you with my filth."

"I am taking you to my sister's house. You can stay there until you find accommodations. Once there, I am sure she will have clean clothing and a bath you may use."

She nodded and leaned her head back against the high back, not questioning his statement.

"I can find work with a chemist. I know the proper preparation and storage. Perhaps I can…"

"You are banned from…"

"From brewing and selling, not from preparing ingredients."

"There she is," Percival leaned forward and pointed to a young woman who stood apart from the crowd on the platform. "Honoria, my sister. She has two children and a husband that travels. She can use help with the house."

"So, I am to be a maid," Kendra said flatly.

"Until you can find…" He raked his hand though his hair and pulled back from the window. "Are you too good for honest work?"

"No, are you still to vain for it?" She smiled at him, referring to their first meeting years previously.

"I was not sure you would remember such a brief meeting," he chuckled.

"It is not your face but you hands that I remember." She leaned forward and took both of his in hers. "Strong they are. Lines of strength and loyalty. Lines of protection and resolve. Good hands, hands of a scholar, a father, a good and gentle man."

"Nonsense." He stood, yanking his hands from hers and pulling his bag down. "Reading palms and divination, stuff and foolishness."

She followed him to the platform, turning up her palm as she did. Glancing at the lines that criss-crossed the same as she had seen in his she frowned. On her hand a small nick of a line, a mere crease at the base of her index finger was the line of her husband. She had seen Percival's hand, his lifeline was abruptly cut, slashing from his thumb to stop at the base of his finger, the place where her own began.

She wiped her sleeve over her eyes, wondering if she would ever find happiness in this life and wondered how long she would have with the powerful wizard that did not know that their lives together had just begun.


	2. The Second Secret

**Disclaimer: Not mine. **

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**Keeping Secrets**

**Chapter 2**

**The Second Secret**

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Percival found he had trouble working. He found it difficult to concentrate and took long walks in the crisp morning air to clear his head. It helped some, as did the morning cup of tea taken in his sister's kitchen. When his brother-in-law was home he was seen to the dinning room where he was served a full hot breakfast. However, as was more likely to happen, he would sit at the small corner table and talk to Honoria while Kendra fed the children before wrapping a shawl around her head and shoulders and walking them to school.

"I've told her they can walk themselves," Honoria said as the door shut behind them. "She is overly protective of them."

"She is cautious," he said, sipping his tea and taking another piece of toast. "This is quite good."

"She even bakes better than I," Honoria pouted. "Tell me the compote is better then usual and you will wear it."

He laughed at her and shook his head. "Honoria, it is easier to do such as this without the responsibility of the entire house."

"I suppose. I do like having her here. She is good with the children and knows her place."

Percival sipped his tea, knowing that his sister only spoke the truth. The witch was in her employ, and as such should not interfere with the running of the household or the method in which the children were disciplined. He nodded his agreement at the same time he felt uncomfortable in doing so.

Her place, he thought, should be in front of a classroom, a physic shop of her own, or in a houseful of her own children. "I am purchasing a house, a small house, closer to town. I could use her once a week if you are so inclined."

"It is about time," Honoria snorted. "A man your age should have…"

"Here I thought I left my mother at home," he scolded her. "I need more room and can put a shop in the front of the house. I will soon need to hire help with the copies."

"Kendra has a fine hand," Honoria said, grinning at him. "Why don't you just come out and ask her for a walk instead of pretending you are here to clear your head and inquire about housemaids."

"I am too old to carry on like a young fool," he sighed. "I am afraid I have missed the time when a witch would see me as a good catch."

"And she is not getting any younger. A spinster by any one's standards, but still young enough to give you children."

From that time on, through the fall and into the winter, Honoria added the marketing to Kendra's list of duties. Telling her, she disliked the dredge of daily shopping lists, Honoria sent her maid on Mondays and Thursdays only. Scoffing at her husband's reluctance to pay the expense of additional ice to keep the purchases fresh, she insisted that the house would run much smoother. Since there was so much to carry, and Kendra too slight, Percival would join her to help with the bundles.

They used the time to explore the magical world as well as do Honoria's bidding. Soon all the magical people in town knew Kendra as she learned to use a wand, and how to read runes. She studied the laws of the Ministry, until she could recite them by heart and flew into a rage when she read the law on equal protection form Muggles. She, as a witch, should have been protected, and not left in a dark filthy cell with no food, waiting to be branded and sent away. She wrote letters to the Ministry, accusing Faris of dereliction of duty and was quite pleased to receive a polite letter of apology in return.

"You will learn not to ruffle feathers," Percival had laughed as he read the letter, seeing the scrawl and knew that Faris had fought with the quill. "It is a good thing. However, he is rather a vain man and will not soon forget this."

Kendra cocked her eyebrow and sent him a questioning look, smiling to see him once again become flustered. He stopped in the middle of the pavement and pulled her elbow back, frowning at her as the passersby jostled into them. Without thinking of what he was doing, his hand released her arm to take the back of her neck and pull her mouth to his. His other arm wrapped around her back, pulling her firmly into his body as he deepened the kiss. At last, when she pushed him back, flushed and gasping for air he realized what he had done. He had kissed his sister's maid on a pubic pavement, to the delight of all that watched.

"I…I did not mean to do that," he stammered.

"Then take it back," she grinned as she stepped back into his arms, lifting her head and kissing him hard. "There, it is yours again. If you do not mean for me to have it I will gladly pay you back two fold."

He smiled at her audacity, and let his hand linger in her hair before taking her hand and tucking it into his elbow. "I will have to marry you now."

"I see, a rather strange custom. I brew and am branded. I kiss and must marry?"

"Yes," he said solemnly, for a moment panicking and wanting to call the words back.

"Do you love me?"

He stopped walking and waited until she turned back to him. Everyday he sat in front of ancient texts and copied words. He knew the great masterpieces, the epic poems, and songs long forgotten. Yet, here, in front of Kendra he was at loss for words. He found his mouth gone dry and his mind blank. A simple question that demanded a simple answer and all he could do was frown at her. Watching her face sadden as she turned away, he hurried after her and again took her elbow.

"I do not know what love is," he admitted softly. "When I see you I find it difficult to breathe, and when you are not near, I see you everywhere I look. In the mornings, I miss you not being next to me, and at night, I cannot sleep for the wanting. Is that love? And if it is not, is it enough for you?"

"There are those that will say you could do better. I have no dowry, nothing to bring to a marriage. I am considered a foreigner here and a half-breed at home." She talked softly, her gaze on the pavement as they walked along.

"There are those that will wonder why you wanted one such as me. I am a solitary man, more at home with his books then with a comely lass. They will say you could have done better."

"They would be wrong." She smiled and hugged his arm tightly. "I like your sister."

"As she does you." He peeked at her face, still waiting for her answer.

"Your mother hates me and your father only tolerates me if I don't talk."

"She is not the one that wants to marry you and you only have to see him at the holidays."

"She thinks I am too old to marry and told your sister at my age any children will look like toads," she smiled widely. "Perhaps we should do it just to anger her."

"Kendra!" he admonished her, not able to keep the amusement from his own voice.

"When you are not near I think of you and worry if you have eaten. I wonder if you are tucking your cuffs into your sleeves to hide the frayed edges again or if you have spilled yet another pot of ink and stained your elbow. I worry that you do not watch the time and miss too much sleep. I worry that you do not sleep alone."

Percival glanced at his wrist and gave a lopsided grin, seeing the tattered cuff he had tried to cover peeking out. "If I were a vain man I would buy new."

"If you were a prudent man you would have married me a year ago and I could have mended them." She picked at the tattered remains, pulling out a long loose thread. "A man of your statue must be careful with his appearance."

"A man of my statue no longer wants to sleep alone."

"Then we should marry," she said, watching him out of the corner of her eye.

"Fine, fine." He nodded solemnly, his heart beating so fast he could feel it in his chest. "Would you care to set a date?"

"The Ministry office is open today." She stopped walking, waiting for him to turn back to her.

He put his hands on her shoulders and studied her face, seeing the laughter in her eyes and her half-parted lips, lips that he hungered for and suddenly could not look away from. Lowering his head he gave her a quick kiss and stepped back, taking her hand and pulling her along. He dragged her into jewellery, owned by a friend of his, and known to the wizard to be fair with his prices.

A tiny bell rang as the door opened and Mr. Dobbin's head poked out of the back room. "As I live and breathe! Percival Dumbledore!"

"Ignatius," Percival smiled in greeting. "I am here to buy a wedding ring."

"About time it is!" Ignatius rushed forward, slapped him on the shoulders and pulled him into a hug. "Now, tell me, who is the witch?"

"Kendra, Kendra Whetstones." He turned and waved Kendra forward. "She has just now given her consent to be my wife."

"Miss Whetstone," Ignatius said formally, started to put his hand out, only to drop it at his side. "Your sister's maid?"

"I will wait outside," Kendra said softly, squeezing Percival's arm. "The air in here is too close."

"No, wait." Percival held onto her wrist as he turned back to his old friend. "Is that any way to greet the woman that will be my wife?"

"She doesn't belong here, Percival. She is not one of us. She carries the mark of Muggle justice."

"She is as much one of us as I." His voice lowered, causing Kendra to snap up her eyes to watch his face, never having heard his anger before.

"No," she said softly, laying her hand on his arm. "It doesn't matter."

"Yes, it does." His face darkened as he shoved her hand away and faced Ignatius.

"Percival, no one has anything but respect for her. Ask anyone and they will tell you she was mistreated by the Muggles and that she is nothing but kind to your sister's children."

"She is not, however, good enough to marry," he said coldly. "I was not aware that you held these beliefs nor do I wish to associate with those that do."

"I am sorry you feel that way. However, it is not only my beliefs. I am surprised your own mother would approve of her. Merlin, take her to your bed, but don't marry the witch."

Kendra turned and ran from the store, her breath coming in short shallow gasps. Never had she heard such venom directed at her, even in the country of her mother, shops had signs posted on the door, warning her people not to enter, but never, never here…and never in the company of Percival.

"Kendra!" He ran after the, catching her arm and pulling her to the side of the pavement. "Don't let him ruin the day. He is a stupid and pig-nosed man…at least he will be for a few hours."

"What did you do?" she gasped.

"If he wants to act like a pig-nosed fool he should know what one feels like," Percival grinned as shouts of anger came from the shop.

"Oh my god!" She blanched, and turned to hurry away. "This is all we need."

"He can not very well turn me into the Ministry when there are laws against his type of thinking. He would have to admit to refusing to sell to a Muggle."

"No, but he can make your life…" she stopped and turned back to him. "Rethink the question you asked me. I will understand if you want to withdraw it."

"I do not have the time woman. I has taken me fourteen years to get this far. If I stop now it will be another fourteen and by Merlin's beard I will not push a pram if I myself can not walk straight."

"Then we will do it tomorrow." She smiled and hugged his arm, pulling him back onto the pavement. "I want something from you."

"And that is?"

"I want my debt shown paid, on paper, and put in my hand."

"Does it matter to you?"

"Yes," she said lightly. "Foolishness you will think. To me…to me it is freedom. It says I am free to marry you and not taken as a debt unpaid."

He took her back to his sister's house, leaned down and kissed her on the cheek, seeing the curtains at the front window move. "I will collect you at ten."

She nodded and turned on her heel, suddenly unable to talk and not trusting what she would say if she started. Leaning her back against the inside of the door, she smiled widely.

"Well, it is about time."Honoria stood wiping her hands.

"He was nervous as a cat," Kendra laughed.

"When? Did he try to set the date three years from now?"

Kendra shook her head, giggling up at the ceiling. "Tomorrow at ten."

"Did he buy the rings?"

"No." Kendra's smile fell as she struggled off her shawl and hung it by the door. "My mother's people did not use rings. It is a foolish custom."

"Ignatius made an arse of himself."

"There is that too, only I think Percival made a pig of him…at least in part," Kendra sighed. "Am I doing the wrong thing? If his friends do not…"

"Wrong? Goodness girl, he eats here every morning and takes tea on Sunday and Wednesday evenings. Add that to the marketing trips and he spends more time with you now than he will once you are married. At least once you are married he may find time to work. He is smitten and has finally done something about it."

"I want my pay up through today," Kendra stammered. "I know it is not due…"

"Nonsense, it is overdue. I owe you for three months plus half of this. You will have it in the morning."

The next morning Kendra tucked her money into her pocket and accepted Honoria's hug as she stepped out when Percival started up the walk to the house. She greeted him as always, with a slight nod of her head, and fell in step with his long strides as he walked down the pavement. Once at the Ministry's register, he filled out his part of the licence and slid it in front of her. Laying down the quill, she dug in her pocket and brought out her pouch of pay, then picked up the quill and wrote the small number on the line that asked about what dowry the bride would bring.

Percival felt a smile tug at his lip that he at once swallowed, knowing how important it was to this witch. He took the money and placed it in his pocket, confused at a witch that would find this important. They were led into the judge's chamber and married as a simple legal matter. Percival slipped his grandmother's ring on her finger and looked up guiltily that it was not new. Seeing Kendra's eyes fill with tears he knew it did not matter, and sighed loudly in relief, soliciting a chuckle from the judge.

It seemed to take but a few minutes before they were once again standing outside on the crowded streets. "I thought we could celebrate over lunch," Percival said quietly.

"I couldn't eat," Kendra said nervously, twisting her hands.

"How about a cup of tea?"

"No."

"Kendra? What is wrong?"

"I am married." She breathed heavily. "This is a mistake. I am too old and you too…too… you are too kind. I took advantage of you. Your mother is right. I am a mixed blood tart that should have gone home. I knew all of this was too good to be true. We can undo this…I tricked you."

"Stop," he said, laughing at her.

"Your friends will think I am after your money." She started to tug the ring off her finger when he grabbed up her hand.

"You are scared? Of me?"

"Yes," she whispered. "I am afraid you will wake up and not want me there. That you will…"

"Kendra, come home with me. You will feel better once you see that everyone agrees I did the right thing."

"Not everyone." She looked up tearfully.

"Everyone that matters to me, and those that do not, I will not miss. Now come, Honoria is surprising us. Please, don't let on you know or I will not hear the end of it. She was up with Mother all night whispering."

They spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon in a whirlwind of introductions and idle banter. Percival's business contacts brought their wives, many of the people she knew from his sister's came, as well a couple that worked for the Ministry. At first, Kendra was concerned that none of his personal friends had come, until it gradually became apparent that Percival had none. So wrapped up was he in his work, he had never sought out the companionship of others. She stayed close to him and found herself wanting to reach out and touch his arm to give him reassurance that she was close.

They bid goodbye to the last of the guest and turned back to the now empty house, Kendra nervously began to clean up the teacups and small plates that lay scattered around.

"Leave them," Percival said, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. "I have other things on my mind."

"Now? The house is…"

"Now," he said, his voice husky.

He led her upstairs and stood in the doorway of their bedroom as she stood in the middle of it looking around. Her eyes examined everything but the bed as she shyly avoided it and him at the same time.

"Kendra?"

"I don't know what to do now," she said softly.

He went to her and unbuttoned the back of her dress, pulled the garment down from her shoulders and kissed her neck.

"I won't hurt you. We can go as slow as you want…no...no…hush now." He turned her to face him, studying her face and kissing away her tears. "If it doesn't happen tonight we have a life time of nights to come. Do you understand me? I want you, but I want you willing, not scared of me."

Years later, as she sat alone and the cold wind blew against the eves; she would remember their first night. She would remember his obvious desire and frustration and the way he had only smiled and pulled her to his shoulder, telling her to sleep and kissing away her tears. She would remember his patience until the night she could willingly drop her nightgown to the floor and go to him. She would close her eyes, wrap her arms around her waist and remember he had held her, and made her feel truly loved.

When she was pregnant with their first child, he would lay sideways on the bed, his ear on her naked stomach and his hand cupping her breast, falling asleep holding both of them close. On hot summer nights, he would take her outside and lay down in the cool grass with her, reading childhood stories as he patted her belly and punctuated each turn of a page with a quick kiss to her lips or a pat to her taunt stomach.

She felt the baby move when only in her second month. Gasping for air as her womb lurched and the feeling of magic radiated from her she had sunk to her knees, searching her palm for a reason, afraid that the suddenness of life was a bad omen. Casting stones, in the way her mother had taught her, she cleared her mind and thought of nothing, letting words and images flood her mind. She saw the future in confusion and murky uncertainly. Both darkness and light fighting for the unborn child, darkness giving way to light, and then the darkness returned. Returned at the end of the dream to fade into a blend of grey. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, willing the end of the dream like trance to show her the truth of what she saw.

Unable to understand, unable to put it into words she kept her silence. Preferring to have Percival not know of the battle that was going on in her womb, knowing his own lifeline would not enable him to see the end of the battle. She kept her silence, and added another secret to her list.


	3. The Third Secret

**Disclaimer: Not mine. **

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**Keeping Secrets  
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**Chapter 3**

**The Third Secret **

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Albus Percival Wulfric Brian was born on a blustery morning in September of 1881. Kendra had laboured three days, but now that she held him in her arms, the pains seemed trivial and already forgotten. Percival rested on his knees beside the bed, watching his son take Kendra's breast, knowing he would never feel like this again. His son, his _first _son, he thought, and felt his grin break into another wide smile as he realized he was already looking forward to the next.

"You should get some sleep," Kendra said tiredly.

"I will, later." He reached over and stroked the babe's cheek with his finger. "Look how perfect he is, so small and so utterly perfect."

"Let him latch onto you and see how small and perfect he is," she laughed.

"I think he recognises my voice," he said hopefully, looking up to her face wanting to see her agreement with him.

"Now I know you need to sleep. You are already dreaming," she laughed, wincing as she switched Albus to the other side and felt him camp onto her again, already needing no encouragement to take her breast. "Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, an awful big name for such a little one."

"He will be a great wizard. I can feel it." Percival leaned over farther and kissed her on the top of her head. "How are you? Truly?"

"Tired," she sighed. "Lay with me? Keep me warm?"

He climbed in the bed next to her and lifted her head on his shoulder, knowing she would not sleep until he did, and even then, she would do so fitfully. The midwife had made a potion that sat by the bed which she had refused to take until she had fed the babe, afraid it would taint her milk, although it was the same potion she would not hesitate to give any Muggle mother. Once she tucked her breast back into her gown he picked up the potion and held it for her, waiting for her to swallow it before putting back the empty vial.

"I am hiring you help," Percival said softly. "You do …"

"You wouldn't dare." She struggled to sit up, only to have him hold her down.

"Kendra, do not argue about this."

"I'm not. I am saying no. There is nothing to argue about."

"We could move to an all Wizarding community and have an elf. The best of families do."

"We are not the best of families." She laughed at his pout and laid her finger on his lower lip. "You look like your son when you do that."

"He doesn't look like ether one of us," he said quietly.

"Give him time. His eyes look like they will stay blue like yours and his hair…well, we don't know about that yet. He will be tall like you, and look at his hands. Long and elegant they are. Yes,…I think like his father's. He has the hands of a scholar."

Percival took one of the tiny hands is his and turned it over, studying the lines, wondering what they may show. "What do you see? All vanity and no substance?"

"All scholars must be vain or they would not strive to be the best. It is not always a bad thing. As to the rest, it's too early," she said, avoiding his eyes, looking instead at the tiny infant. "He has to start his way before we will know how it finishes. His hands will grow with his mind. Tell me you will not bring in a maid. Let him learn to be humble and not set himself above others. So many of the people you know do that. They have spoiled children that will not be remembered for more than their bloodlines and how much money they spend."

"If it important to you," Percival sighed. "Now sleep. However, I warn you…if it becomes too much you will have help."

Kendra could not leave Albus cry, the slightest whimper set her running to see after him, often finding the kitchen in smoke with dinner left too long on the burner. Wanting to hold him through the night, she would sneak him into bed where she would lay him between her and Percival despite all warnings that it was not safe. She ignored Honoria's reprimands of spoiling the child and did not listen to her mother-in-law's stern warning of crooked teeth and flat heads from sucking thumbs and wrong sleeping positions.

She kept the house cool and the windows open, insisting that too warm a house would sicken him. Every day the sun shone, and warmed the ground, she took the baby outside and laid him in the grass with no blanket under him, singing songs in the tongue of her mother and laying with him to watch the clouds. Percival would leave the shop in the front of the house and find his lunch set out in an empty kitchen. Chuckling, he would take his plate to the small yard and eat, watching his wife and infant son asleep together, she barefoot and his son naked. He often thought that Kendra had chosen him for his patience with such things, and he had chosen her for no other reason that she had fascinated him, and fascinated him still.

By the time Albus was two, he already followed her eyes on the pages of the story books she read, making her think he could recognize the words to the amusement of Percival. When he was three, he could levitate his toys and other small objects, frustrating Percival's attempts at discipline and delighting Kendra.

"I blame you," Percival complained. "I send him to bed only to find him in there playing with some toy you bought him."

"Take it away from him if it bothers you so much," she said with a grin, knowing he was not able to watch his son cry.

"I didn't give it to him woman, he summons it! Three years old and he summons his toys!"

"Are you complaining or bragging?"

"Both," he answered honestly. "By Merlin woman, you have to keep an eye on him. There are too many Muggles in and out of the shop for him to be running around out front. At least keep him out of sight while customers are in."

"Perhaps his brother will be easier to handle and give him a playmate," Kendra said as she turned away from the sink and watched his face turn from confusion to wondrous hope. "Are you happy about it?"

"Of course." He crossed the room and wrapped his arms around her, laying his head on top of hers. "I…I just thought of the last time. Three days…I don't want to see you like that again."

"You won't," she reassured him. "Albus was the first, this one will come quicker. Truly, I will be fine. There will be four years between them. I had began to give up hope."

"This time you will have help. Now hush…just until the baby is born. You need to rest, and worry about the one inside you."

"I can…"

"No. You are not a twenty year old. We started this rather late and I will not have you doing this alone."

"You are calling me old?" She pulled back enough to look at his face. "I was well past twenty last time and you paid no mind."

"Kendra," he said her name as a warning.

"Fine, until this one is born. I will go to the paper and see about putting out an advert," she said, lying easily.

She would not admit to herself, and never to Percival, that this pregnancy was different from the first. She was tired, and wanted to sleep all the time. Her back hurt and what little food she could eat, despite her revulsion at the smell, came back up as soon as she had finished eating. The midwife gave her potions for the nutrients she was lacking, and tried to find something to stop the continued morning sickness.

Only at night as she laid in her husbands arms and felt his hand on her stomach would she stop worrying about the baby she carried. In the morning, she would pick up her gown from the floor and tug it over her head, hoping she had time to hide her nakedness before running to the loo. Sitting on the ground, vomiting into the toilet she would cry at the thought that something was wrong.

"How long do you think you can keep trying to hide this?" Percival squatted down next to her, handing her a damp flannel.

"The sickness should pass soon."

"It should have passed two months ago. Your midwife wants you to see a Healer. I will not pretend I don't know any longer, enough of this. "

"I can't," she looked up at him tearfully.

"Kendra, why ever not?"

She turned her palm up and touched the brand she still carried. "They will see this and think I…"

"Oh, Merlin." He pulled her to his chest. "That is foolishness. I will not have his life risked for your pride."

"No, no it's not foolishness. The midwife saw it and wanted to know if I was making myself sick. She asked if I wanted this baby and if I …"

"We will find a new one."

"It was the same with Albus," she told him tearfully. "Please…not yet. Wait and see if it gets better."

"That woman will not set foot in this house again," he said, his voice laced with an unusual anger. "I will find a witch to attend you, no more Muggle Midwives."

Percival worried about her. Not only the fact that the pregnancy left her tired and too weak to comedown stairs many mornings, but that she kept her problems so close and refused to seek help outside of the house and the one time she had the outcome had been so bad. She kept Albus where she could see him at all times, and even now, when she could barely lift her head from the pillow, she insisted he be allowed to sit beside her while she read him his stories and began to teach him to count on his fingers.

Honoria finally put her foot down, telling Kendra that if she would not accept outside help that she would come every day and help herself. Kendra's complaining to Percival did no good, this time he held firm, giving her only the choice of Honoria or a paid maid. Grumbling that at least with Honoria she would not have to put on airs she begrudgingly allowed her sister-in-law to help tend her and Albus.

Every morning Kendra had to make sure she was up and dressed before her sister-in-law came, no longer able to lay naked in Percival's arms while Albus played happily on the floor. She was forced to eat eggs, porridges and all manner of bland foods that she found distasteful and barely eatable. Honoria would darken the room and make her sleep at regular intervals, not allowing her to decide when she wanted to sleep and when she wanted to eat.

The biggest problem was a simple thing. Kendra did not like that Honoria forced Albus to wear shoes. It became a daily battle, with Honoria insisting shoes would help form his tiny feet and Kendra arguing that she had not worn hard- soled shoes until she was ten and that her feet were fine. Percival tried to stay out of the way, not understanding why the wearing of shoes was important, at the same time not understanding why it was not. He pulled Honoria aside and asked her to give in to Kendra, not to upset her until her pregnancy was over and she was back to normal.

"That's the problem," Honoria raged. "This is how she always acts with that child. She listens to no one, she takes no advice and she…"

"And she does not ask for it," Percival frowned. "When she is ready she will come to you. Until that time, in my house, with my child, I must ask you to be as patient as she was in your home. You can see now how hard it must have been for her to hold her silence, yet hold it she did."

"I cannot do this," Honoria picked up her shawl and wrapped it around her shoulders. "You don't see it. You are blind to her and her…her common ways. She is controlling and demands more…"

"Thank you for the time you have given us," he interrupted her, stood and kissed her cheek, guiding her to the door. "Let us leave it this way before either one of us says something they will regret."

"Oh, Percival," she sighed deeply. "As long as she makes you happy…that is all that matters."

"Yes, it is," he said sternly, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I am glad you remembered that before I had to remind you of our own parent's dissatisfaction with your choice. Father still tells his friends you are a spinster and Mother insists I, like you, married only to spite her. "

"My husband is a good man. He is…"

"Exactly. He is a good man, born within fifty miles of you and raised with the same customs. I am glad you never had to understand other ways in a new country." He guided her to the door. "I will tell Kendra your departure was my idea, that I did not like … did not …."

"Tell her you don't like my cooking. She knows that already," Honoria laughed as his face flushed and kissed him on the cheek. "I do like her. I just cannot stand the way she carries on."

Percival closed the door behind his sister hearing footfalls on the stairs behind him. "Thank you," Kendra sighed, slumping to sit on the bottom step.

"You will catch your death on the floor. Come sit with me." He squatted down in front of her and studied her face.

"You are right. It is hard here," she said softly, looking up at him in tears, accepting his hand and following him to the sitting room.

Letting his arm lie on her shoulders, she rested her head on him with a deep sigh. "I come from a place you can not imagine. In a world so different than this that you would be lost."

"Not so different," he sighed. "From what I know of America it is not so strange."

Kendra closed her eyes and nodded. She had been just a child when they had come for her. She had never seen so many white- men, men that wore blue uniforms and heavy boots. They had been chilling to see, fulfilling all the horror stories she had heard from her mother's people and making her nightmares real.

They took her to a school, her and the other children, a school where their hair was cut and they were made to wear clothes that were stiff and hard, with no colour or decorations and were given new names. Kendra was not allowed to sleep with her brothers but with strange girls from other tribes that she did not know, and did not like. She squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep relaxing breath as she remembered the beatings that came when she slipped and used her mother's language and the daily teachings that she was not good enough and how she must learn to hide who she was.

Above all else, she remembered, they had forced her wear shoes.

Yes, she thought, she had hated the shoes most of all. High black leather shoes that had buttons that pulled the leather too tight, squeezed her feet and left her ankles sore and sweaty. When they had first forced her feet into the foreign shoes she had cried and begged, knowing she would be someone different and lose herself in the white-man's world. And, she had lost herself. She had learned to walk like the white people, to eat what they did, to speak as they and knew if Percival had seen her as a child, he would no more want her than his parents wanted her mixed blood now.

She turned her head and looked up at him tearfully, not able to tell him what it had been like with the white- man's warning to hide her heritage still clear in her ears. "I was so scared when I came here. I never saw my mother again. By the time my father found me, my brothers had already left for home."

"Kendra, you have never spoken of your family. I only know that your mother was a native…"

"He sent me here. He sent me here to his mother," she said and tried to smile at him, to reassure him that she was fine, to bring the conversation to the Welch man she could barely remember and away from her mother and her people. "It was the same as here. Muggle-born witches are called Mudblood, at home I m called half-breed. Here I am hated because of my non-magical blood, there I am hated because my parent's skin did not match and my Mother did not pray to your god. I want my children to choose their own path. I want them to know all people can be good. I want them to know it does not matter if you wear shoes and if you do…you can pick the ones you wear."

"You want to teach them yourself," he said flatly, already having had this argument with Honoria and unable to understand anything to do with shoes.

"Yes, until they are old enough to go to the school you went to. Once a boy is twelve his mind is formed and he knows which path to take, it is then his choice. Until then…even before that…they must learn not to hate differences. It is hard here, hard because Honoria and your parents come between us and Albus."

"My parents do not believe…"

"Every time we see them they make a point to tell me I am accepted, and in the doing show me I am not. If it didn't matter they would not need to keep reassuring themselves."

"They must know Latin," he said thoughtfully. "Literature, both Muggle and Wizard, as one is incomplete without the other."

"Wonderful stories of far away places and fairy lands," she grinned. "They must learn to wonder at all the world has to offer and want more of it, to hunger for it, but to always to be satisfied with what they have."

"Kendra," he sighed, knowing he was fighting the wind. "Latin, numbers, geography …they will need to know these things."

"And they will. I will cut back on the household expense and use the money for a tutor if one is needed." She looked up at him hopefully.

"We will talk about it when it is time," he said, kissing the top of her head.

Two months later, as snow piled up against the outside shed, and frost covered the window glass, Aberforth Dumbledore was born. A simple name for a simple man, Kendra insisted, not allowing Percival to honour the rest of his paternal line and heap more names on the small boy. He had only frowned and folded his hands behind his back, giving into her, trying to think of a quick retort only to see her face light up as Albus ran in and jumped on the bed to greet his brother.

"Is it him?" Albus whispered, peering into Aberforth's face. "He don't look special. Dad said he was special."

"He is," Kendra laughed. "He is your bother and that makes him special."

"He don't match," Albus frowned, laying his arm next to his brother and scrunching up his face in deep thought.

"He will. You looked just like him when you were new," she told him, nodding at his upturned face. "Truly. You looked as bad as him and look at you now."

"Having a brother is a big responsibility," Percival said, sitting on the edge of the bed. "We expect you to set an example."

Kendra saw the frown that spread over Albus' face. "That means you have to teach him to be a good boy, not to use magic in front of Muggles and how to play quietly while Daddy is working."

"He stinks," Albus said, passing judgement and finding the baby lacking.

"Now," Kendra said, ruffling his hair, "bed time for you young man. Your brother needs his sleep too."

"I didn't get my story," he whined, looking at her mother hopefully.

"Ah, not tonight." She smiled, and reached out to tousle his hair again, dismayed when he pulled out of reach and pursed his lips into a thin line.

"I don't want a brother. I want a story." Albus said flatly, looking at the infant in his mother's arms.

"Percival?"

"Come with me. Think I remember how to read." He swung his son to his hip and started downstairs, feeling fear and disappointment radiate from his oldest son and remembering his own dismay when Honoria had been born.

Kendra started to become concerned that Albus still had not accepted his brother until he and Percival came in from the market and hiding a bundle under his jumper he ran to his room. Looking at Percival, her eyebrow cocked in question she had seen his grin.

"He wanted to buy his brother a Christmas present. He is concerned that since Aberforth still…stinks on occasion…that Father Christmas will pass him by."

"Good lord, I hope you told him all babies smell until they are trained." She shook her head wearily. "Did he think of it himself? Or did you hint at it?"

"No, all his idea I assure you," he smirked "He also insisted that you and he have a present as well. However, I will tell you that the yearly Gypsy caravan is set up at the market."

"He talked you into buying himself a present?" She grinned, seeing Percival become uncomfortable. "And just what was it this time?"

"You my dear, will have to wait for morning."

Albus woke up and ripped open the presents on the foot of his bed, delighted to find two new books, a wooden horse with a carriage that had wheels that really moved from Father Christmas. Kendra and Percival heard his squeals and hurried to watch him open the last bundle, wrapped in bright papers, a matching one in Aberforth's crib.

Kendra frowned, not recognising the wrappings, and turned to Percival who put his fingers to his lips and winked at her, watching her face and not his son's as Albus tore the paper away and dumped socks of every colour on his bed.

"His feet get cold," Percival said softly. "He thought it better than listening to you and his Aunt fight over shoes."

Kendra took her package from Albus' outstretched hands and sat on the floor as he helped her rip open the present. A flood of mismatched yarns, all mixed and blended into a gaudy pair of knee high socks fell onto her lap. She lifted them to her face and lowered her head, smelling the dry desert air and smoky fires for her mother's people. Hugging Albus to her, her tears running into his hair she sighed loudly, wondering how the child could have seen her secret.


	4. The Fourth

**Disclaimer: Not mine. **

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**Keeping Secrets  
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**Chapter 4**

**The Fourth**

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Their sister joined Aberforth and Albus only fifteen months later. Percival did not understand what he felt as Kendra placed the tiny girl in his arms, and laid back against the pillows, exhausted and sadder then he had ever seen her. Twice before he had accepted his sons and memorized their faces as he had smelled their sweet breath and thanked whatever god would listen that Kendra had delivered them safely. Now, he stood afraid to move, afraid to admit what he feared, afraid to comfort Kendra with empty words that may yet prove to be a lie and afraid to let himself love the little bundle more than he did for fear she would be taken away before she could draw her next breath.

A wave of emotion flooded over him, washing him and his daughter in a surge of magic that he had never felt before, and hoped to never feel again. So small she was, smaller than either of the boys had been, smaller than he had thought possible. Early, by nearly two months, he had worried he would never hold her warm body but would only be able to bury her. Now, she lie kicking and mewing in his arms, her umbilical cord still pink and healthy, her cry full throated and deep.

"She is a fighter," Kendra said, watching his face and the way he held on to the baby with a desperation that made her want to cry. "She's too small but many live when they come as early as this."

"I have called in a Healer from St. Mungo's. He will be here in the morning. Your midwife says only that she is too small."

"The boys should see her," Kendra choked, holding back her tears. "They need to meet her now before…before…"

"No," Percival said harsher then he realised and saw Kendra flinch. "She will live. They will be awake in a few hours, they can see her then."

He wrapped an extra blanket around the child and putting her next to Kendra he lie next to them, reaching his arm to encompass both. Refusing to admit that this may be their only time together, he lay quietly, thinking of a fitting name.

"She will be Ariana, for my great-grandmother who lived to be one hundred and thirty three," he whispered into Kendra's ear and felt her nod as her tears warmed his shoulder.

Two weeks later, Ariana still lived and the Healer's daily visits tapered off to monthly until the child was six months old and deemed healthy by any standard. He had assured Kendra that Ariana would slowly catch up to the other children and although in her mind she knew it to be true, still she worried. The Healer had smirked and jerked his head toward Percival, warning her that the one that needed the most care was not the girl but the father that still stayed up late into the night to make sure Ariana still breathed in her sleep.

To Percival, Ariana was perfect. He had never known such beauty, even in his Kendra's eyes. His ancient tomes spoke of the great woman of the world, but he knew that his Ariana would far outshine any of them and would forever be his. He loved her unconditionally and irrevocably, bragging to anyone who happened in the shop and coming into the house at all hours of the day to check on her.

She was everything he and Kendra were not. Light blonde, almost silvery hair, so unlike the auburn worn by him and the boys, and such a contrast to Kendra's that was so black he often saw blue in it, that he chuckled and teased his wife that this could not possibly be theirs. Kendra pointed out the same piercing eyes that Albus had and the way she slept all night was just as Aberforth had done. He laughed and told her that he gave her permission to have one that looked like herself, soliciting a roll of the eyes and a swat at his head.

If asked, he would never have thought to set her above his sons. Sons were the future, the family's hope, the continuance of the family name, the pride of each generation. His daughter, however, promised nothing but to be his and Kendra's continued joy. She did not appear as alert as the boys had been, she did not recognise voices as early or wonder at the play of light on the ceiling when the fireplace lit the room. It did not matter, for Percival, it was enough that she lived.

In the morning, unlike her brothers boisterous waking, she would lay kicking and holding her hands up to the sunlight as if the day was there to greet just her. She never demanded that they hold her, content instead to listen to the boys play and follow them with her eyes. At first, Kendra had been concerned over Ariana's lack of ambition and would set a toy just out of her reach to make her fight for it. Sitting back and watching to see what the little girl would do, she again and again saw Aberforth leave his own toys and push his sister's closer to her grasp.

The next year was a blur of feedings and nappies, baths and laundry. Albus followed Kendra around dragging a book, demanding that she read to him as his siblings played and laughed, entertaining themselves. At six, he could already read his own books, and began to sneak into the front of the shop to nick more from his father's shop. Percival would see him sneak in, peak around the corner, and become busy with something on the other side of the room, ginning when his eldest grabbed the first book within his reach and scampered off with it.

Kendra complained that the books he left out for the boy were not the right sort, and insisted he purchase ones more suited to the child's age. Soon, she would see him with his head bent over picture books, scowling and muttering under his breath that such things were for babies and not real wizards. She yanked him off the floor and put him in her chair, Ariana on one side, Aberforth on his other, and instructed him to read, telling him if he thought he knew it all he could teach it to them.

Kendra often wondered how they had managed to have such different children. Albus was happiest on his own, perhaps taking apart the mantel clock and trying to discern how it worked. Whereas Aberforth was at his best out of doors, tending the goats and chickens while Ariana followed behind, complaining that the hem of her dress might become soiled or the hens would peck her hand when she collected the eggs. Nor were their temperaments similar, often resulting in sibling rivalries that forced Percival to step in and scold the boys after sending Ariana out of the room so as not to hear them argue.

When Ariana was five Kendra began teaching her simple Latin phases. She was delighted that her daughter's sight lisp did not seem as noticeable with some of the simple words, worrying about the time when a spell could be mispronounced. Albus sat at the table with them during their lessons, his head bent over his books, his quill tapping the table impatiently.

"There are spells that could fix her you know," he looked up at his mother from under his brows. "She can't talk right."

"And they are dark spells," Kendra said with a frown. "Spells that change the true person are always dark. You must remember that. Anyway, back to your studying young man and pay attention to the spells in your books, not those in your father's."

Aberforth held his book up in front of him to the point Kendra could not see his face. Reaching across the table, she lowered his book and raised her eyebrow when she saw he was hiding a penny dreadful inside the cover of his Latin book. He squirmed in his chair and looked to Albus for help, only seeing a smirk.

"What have we here?" Kendra grabbed the thin tattered chapter book and turned it toward her. "Dick Turpin? I don't think so." She stood and took the book to the trash bin, making a show of dropping it in.

"Ah…Mum," Aberforth whined.

"Your father has a library full of better things," she said with a scowl.

"Nothing good," he muttered.

"Nothing you can read," Albus said arrogantly.

"He reads to me," Ariana said sadly, looking at the trash bin. "I didn't get to hear that one yet."

"You read that trash to your sister?" Kendra asked, horrified.

"Some," Aberforth turned his eyes to the table top, not wanting to meet his mother's dark eyes that always managed to scare him when she was angry. "Sometimes I have to sort of make it up…you know…when I don't know the word."

"I see," she said tersely, hearing Albus' sniggers. "Next time you don't know a word you ask your brother. He will help you look it up in the dictionary."

"Mum!" Now it was time for Albus to whine, as Kendra turned to the sink smiling.

"Aberforth?" She said as she looked out into the back garden through the window over the sink. "What is that?"

"It's my new goat."

"He traded the three we had," Albus offered, looking at Aberforth's face fall and smiling at his brother's discomfort. "I told him it was a bad idea only you know him. He doesn't listen."

"You traded three of my milk goats for that? Aberforth…look at it…it can hurt someone."

"Nah," he said, joining her at the window. "Old man Jenkins said we can take the horns off if you don't like them. Told him you wouldn't"

"What is it?" Kendra asked. "Where I grew up we had mountain goats that looked a lot like this one."

"Yeah," Aberforth said, nodding furiously. "It's a Bezoar goat. The books say they are special. I can give it special feed and herbs. It will grow a stone in its stomach."

"Like a…gall stone?" she asked, looking at him strangely.

"What's that?" He looked up at her confused.

"Never mind," she said with a sigh. "So, what good is that?"

"A Bezoar stone is worth lots of money. I can sell it."

"Aberforth, in order to get to the stone you have to butcher it. Then what do we do for milk?"

Albus grinned at the look that fell over Aberforth's face and hearing his brother trying to defend his trade broke into a full laugh.

"We can have meat every day and not just that stuff you make with…" Aberforth stopped and swallowed hard, seeing her look grow darker. "I bet I can make enough when I sell the stone to buy two more."

"So, you trade three to make enough to buy two?"

"And the meat…don't forget the meat."

"I like meat," Ariana said quietly, watching Aberforth squirm under his mother's glare.

"If we had eaten one that we had we would still have two for milk you idiot," Albus sniggered. "Dad's going to kill you."

"Won't either," Aberforth said, not sure that he was correct in his assumption that Percival would understand.

Kendra sighed loudly and turned to look down at Aberforth's up tilted and hopeful face. "Let me talk to him first. Have you done your numbers?"

"No," he squeaked.

"I think it is time you did that."

"Can I feed Cassiopeia first?'

"Cassiopeia? I take it that is your new goat?"

"Yeah."

"I tried to tell him it's a male but he won't believe me. Cassiopeia is a girl's name."

Kendra's head snapped back to the window as she looked at the goat, waiting for it to turn to afford her a better view. She felt the corner of her lip twitch and pictured Aberforth trying to milk a billy. Thinking he may need instruction in more than his books, she made a mental note to speak to Percival about a much-needed _father –son_ _talk_.

She was surprised when she told Percival about the loss of their livestock and he had found humour in Aberforth's folly and thought the lesson he had learned may be worth the price. Once Kendra informed him they would now need to purchase new animals for milk and what he must talk over with his youngest son, he had let his smile slip for a moment before telling her to take what she needed form the vaults and that he would take care of the rest. It was not until the next week when he lost his humour completely.

Aberforth had taken the ribbing Albus had given him steadfastly refusing to back down on the merits of his decision or admit he was wrong. It was not until Albus had shared the exploit with his friends from the Muggle town, making Aberforth the butt of their jokes and teasing, that things got out of hand. In a fury at being called Simple Simon, Aberforth had flung handfuls of Cassiopeia's dung over the fence, hitting one of the boys full in the face.

Percival was in a rage. He had warned his sons repeatedly to stay away from the Muggle children and not to cause any disturbance that would draw attention to their home. His anger was directed more at the fear of discovery of their magical ways than to Aberforth's action, which angered Albus who wanted the blame laid at his brother feet and not on him for sharing family tales.

"He is as prideful and as vain as his father, too quick to find fault and not quick at all when it comes to forgiveness," Kendra argued in Albus' defence.

"I am not vain, nor am I prideful," he muttered.

"So say you. He is the back side of the mirror that you stand in front of."

"Me? It is you that influence him, look at his feet! Not one of those children wears shoes in the house and Ariana still sneaks outside barefoot."

"And the floors are easier to care for because of it." She grinned and wrapped her arms around his waist, knowing that he could never stay truly angry when she did. "They are good children. Did you see Ariana with the new goat? She is learning a spell for milking. Aberforth showed…"

"Wonderful," he said, trying not to show a smile that tugged at his mouth. "You have the privilege of explaining why it will not work. If she manages to get milk from a billy I think it will draw attention."

"No more than trying to get the owls to lay eggs for breakfast everyday. Something your son is trying."

"Albus will leave for school next year. I sometimes think of him as our only hope, and then I catch him reading books on dark spells." He tipped up her chin and studied her face. "You have to be more firm with him. He will not have the freedom there that he does under your tutelage."

"I cannot take him further in his Latin studies only in his numbers. He is anxious to learn…"

"He is anxious with the wrong things."

"His vanity, that yes…he takes from his father. It makes him want to be the best in all things. It is a phase…he will grow out of it, just as Aberforth will grow out of reading penny dreadfuls and Ariana will grow out of hanging the moon over his head."

Kendra hired a tutor for Albus wanting him to be the best at the new school he would be attending, thinking that his limited contact with Magical friends made him lacking in what other Wizard children would know. At the same time, she kept Aberforth and Ariana closer to her, as if to reassure herself that Albus was not being taken away by force but by her choice. Every day she had as many questions for the tutor as did Albus, always digging for more information on Hogwarts and what Albus would need.

Without Percival's knowledge, she took Albus into London to be outfitted for school before his letter arrived, thinking it would calm her down to be prepared and to know that the preparations were done. They went into Diagon Alley where he was measured for robes, and after Kendra argued as to the price, embarrassing Albus, she ordered three sets for every day and one set of dress robes, not knowing if he would have need of them and not wanting to take the chance. Taking off her own robes and indicating that he do the same; she shrunk them down and took him in the Muggle part of the city, delighting him with the idea of new Muggle clothing.

They arrived home just before teatime, Kendra hurrying to the kitchen to start the meal while Albus ran upstairs to show Aberforth his purchases. She had just put a pot of water on to boil, and pealed the potatoes when the boys came jostling they way into the room, laughing and joking about something she had only herd the end of.

"You two watch it around your sister. She doesn't need to learn talk like that."

"She's outside," Aberforth said, reaching for a biscuit and getting his hand slapped for his effort.

"By herself?" Kendra turned and looked out the kitchen window at the darkening sky. "Albus go bring…no, let me do it. You go tell your father tea is late tonight."

She untied her apron and stepped out into the yard. Not seeing Ariana she called her name and walked around to a secluded area behind the goat shed, thinking she was up to practicing milking spells on male goats.

At first, Kendra did not understand what she saw. She smelled feces and vomit but could not put it to the sight of what looked like bloody rags shoved into the corner where the shed met the fence. She called Ariana's name softly, not wanting an answer, not wanting the horror that was in front of her to be anything but what she had first thought it to be. A yellow ribbon caught in the wind and rose from the rags, spilling back to the ground and rushing to her feet. _Ariana_…she whispered before rushing to her daughter, grabbing her bloody and bruised body to her chest, keening out her name as she rocked on her knees. Time seemed to stop yet she felt things moving too fast and wanted only to return to the time she had walked in the front door so she could redo the past hour. Desperately she tipped up her head to the sky and howled out her grief and sorrow barely aware of Percival who had fallen to his knees next to her.

His face was white as he reached out and touched his daughter, needing to make sure she still breathed. "Albus, take your brother…go to Honoria's…hurry…the Healer…." He barked out orders as he lifted Ariana's body from Kendra's arms, hurrying to the house as she scrambled behind him, trying to keep her hand on her daughter as she ran after him.

He laid Ariana on the sofa, instructing Kendra to bring a basin of water as he knelt beside the girl, stroking her forehead and trying to phantom what had happened, unwilling or unable to inspect her wounds. He looked up as his wife returned and began bathing the child, seeing her hands shake.

"She will make it," he said, more to put it right in his mind than to offer comfort to Kendra.

"Who would do this?" She choked, washing the girls face before starting to remove the child's tattered clothing.

"Where in the bloody hell is that Healer?"

"Oh no, my gods," Kendra gasped, her face white as realized that Ariana's under garments had already been removed. Quickly she rolled her to her side and checked the back of her legs, but they as her thighs, showed no sign of blood. "They didn't… didn't…. thank god…they didn't finish."

"She is six…six years old! Who did this? Who has been here?"

"Hush, you'll scare her…please, Percival…if she wakes up and hears you…please…" Kendra pleaded, taking up the flannel and wiping at Ariana's face again, stopping when she noticed a deep cut in the girl's hairline. "I shouldn't have let her out by herself. It's my fault." She sobbed, laying her head on her daughter's stomach and crying. "I should have kept her in the kitchen with me…I should have watched…"

"Don't say that," Percival squatted down next t her. "She'll be fine, you'll see…she …she'll be fine."

"I was late fixing tea…I should have taken the time…I am so sorry. I did this….I…"

Percival grabbed Kendra's shoulders and shook her telling her it was not her fault, his fingers digging into her flesh making her wince in pain. Suddenly realizing what he was doing he pulled her in to an embrace, holding her so tightly that he could feel her heart beating against his.

"Kendra, do you know the healing spells?"

"Not for this…not for her," she pushed him back and turned to Ariana. "We need the Healer…or the Muggle doctor…he is closer…he can…"

"He can't help, not this time, feel her magic…it's too strong…they would find her out." Percival stood up, running his hand through his hair, turning to the sound of footfalls coming through the kitchen.

"Ken?" Honoria stood in the doorway. "The Healer…what happened? Oh, no…" She ran went down next to Kendra, wrapping her arms around her sister-in-law as her eyes turned to Ariana. "What can I do?"

"I don't know," Kendra sobbed as she lifted the girl's hair back and examined the cut above her temple to show Honoria the worse of her fears.

"Percival? Get a cool cloth," Honoria ordered as she lifted Ariana's eyelid and saw nothing but a bloody mass. "My gods, what happened to her?"

"Her arm," Kendra whispered, nodding to the strange angle that it was in. "They…they tried to…they…"

"They didn't, at least they didn't take even that," Percival spat. "Bloody bastards will pay for this."

"Take? What happened?" Honoria looked up and saw the fury on Percival's face understanding the true extent of what someone had tried to do. "Thank gods," she cried out, "she is so small…they would have…"

"Hello?" A deep male voice came from the kitchen before the Healer swept into the room. "Now what is so important that you called me at tea…out of the way," he ordered, his eyes locked on Ariana, "Mr. Dumbledore, take your wife out of here."

Later Kendra would only remember sitting at the kitchen table while Honoria and Percival whispered together out of her hearing. She would remember the way he looked at her and the way Honoria cupped her hand around her mouth to hide her words. She would remember the Healer talking to Percival, keeping his back to her, shielding what he was saying. However, most of all she would remember her husband's tears and the sobs that were ripped from his chest.

Kendra stood and backed away from the table, putting her back to the wall as Percival walked across the room to her. She clamped her hands over her ears to block out his words, words like brain damage, and impaired sight. Words that would change their lives forever and take away what they had held precious just hours before.

"Kendra, drink this," Percival said softly, holding a vial to her mouth. "Please, do his for me. Let Honoria sit with her for a while."

As she drank the potion without questioning, she felt herself awash in a pool of warmth. Percival wrapped one arm around her shoulders and bent down, letting his free arm push into the back of her knees as her scooped up and carried her up stairs. Laying her in the middle of the bed, he crawled in behind her, pulling her to his chest.

"I know a spell…it will let me look into her mind. I will find out who did this."

She struggled against his arms and rolled to her back, looking up at his face, seeing her own pain reflected in his eyes. "Did the healer say…"

"There was no Healer, you must remember that."

"What?" She pushed his arms away and sat up, confused at what he was saying, fighting to focus despite the potion.

"Kendra, listen," he sighed, then sat up and clasped her hands is his. "I had to perform a memory spell. Do you understand? If he reports…brain damage to the Hospital they are required to take it to the Ministry."

"Then they will help find who…"

"No, they will take her to St. Mungo's. Kendra, if they do that…if they determine that her magic is effected…you will never get her back. You know the laws. You have them memorised. "

Kendra felt bile rise up in her throat and slapped her hand over her mouth, shaking her head furiously and trying to get off the bed, held back by Percival's grip.

"Kendra…Honoria agrees…we did a memory spell, a simple one…he won't remember more than she fell from a tree and broke her arm."

"They can't take her! You don't know what it feels like. I do!" Kendra fisted his lapels in her hands. "We can move. We can take her to America. We can…"

"What of your sons? Would you take them away? To a place their magic can never be known? Would you have them give up their lives as well?"

"I…I can take her. As soon as she can travel I will take her and hide…"

"No," he said, his voice harsh and firm. "Would you turn the care of your children over to a stranger?"

"You…you will raise them until it is safe for…"

"You will do as you are told." He pushed her off him and stood up. "Your daughter is alive. That is all you need to know for now. She is alive and she needs you. The boys will stay with my sister until she …until she is well and we will not speak of this again. Am I clear?"

Kendra ran by him, slapping his hand away when he tried to stop her and hurried down the stairs to sit next to Ariana, pushing Honoria away and ordering her from her house. How dare he, she thought, and how dare he and Honoria make plans that would put Ariana in danger with no thought to ask her.

It would be hard to hide a child in the Wizarding world. Kendra stroked Ariana's hair, careful to avoid bumping into her arm, and wished her to open her eyes. Her own tears wetted the child's face as she leaned over and kissed them away. She knew that this secret would forever change their lives and never be safely kept.

As gently as she could, she turned over Ariana's uninjured hand, and wiped her tears to be able to see the lines that were obscured with scrapes and cuts. Unable to read anything more, she laid her head on the edge of the sofa and cried. She knew from the look on his face, and the tone in his voice that Percival would not try to comfort her, nor could she comfort him when she felt her own grief so newly raw.


	5. The Fifth and Hardest Secret to Keep

**Disclaimer: Not mine. **

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**Keeping Secrets**

**Chapter 5**

**The Fifth and Hardest Secret to Keep**

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Percival held his wand to Ariana's forehead ready to look into her mind as he felt Kendra's hand on his shoulder. Shrugging it off he turned to her and angrily ordered her to leave him alone. He had never treated her as he had since she had found Ariana in the yard and she took his actions as his blame that she had not kept a better watch on his daughter. Although she had pleaded with him to come to bed, he refused to leave the chair in the girl's bedroom, leaving his wife to find sleep alone. He would not talk to her, or eat food that she had prepared, shoving it away and ordering her from his sight. Now she found him ready to look at the horror that had taken away their daughter and left the shell of her behind.

With her back against the wall, she slid down to the floor, hugged her knees and watched her husband turned stranger put his attention back to her daughter, and once again put his wand to her forehead. From her view, she could only see his back and hear his breathing quicken as he saw what had happened. Lowering her head, she sobbed as his strangled breathing quickened and his hand on the wand shook. Whatever he was seeing, he relayed to her only in his posture of anguish.

When he was finished, he crawled to his wife and clutched her to him, sobs racking his body as he tried to tell her what he had seen keeping back the worse of the attack. Three boys, Muggles from town, and come into the yard, demanding that Ariana show them the goat they had heard so much about. Ariana had been frightened, never before had strangers come into their yard, never before had her parents allowed Muggles so close. In a panic, she waved her hand at the open shed door, closing and locking it against the teenagers that to her looked like adults, tall and hard like the men from town.

She had been taught to listen to adults, to do as they said, and be polite. These men-yet-boys were different, not asking politely, but demanding, yelling and laughing at her as she stumbled backwards and fell to the ground. One of the teens grabbed her arm and yanked her up from the ground, ordering her to open the door that his mates were pulling on, unable to open. When she refused, he slapped her face and told her that if she did not do as he said they would come back when the goat was out.

Percival had cringed when she had raised her hand and pushed her magic at them, knowing that their anger and fear would drive them on. He heard her muffled scream, as the shorter of the three clamped his hand over her mouth, hissing at her to be quiet, and saw the fear he saw in the third boy's eyes at the possibility of being found out.

"_Shut her bloody yap before someone hears!"_

_"I'm warning you…"_

"_Keep that up and we will make sure you shut up."_

"_Shut her up I said."_

"_You want us to hurt you? You want us to come back and get your idiot brother? Bet you'd like that, what? Bet you'd like to see that."_

"_What is she? Some sort of witch? Did you see what she did to the door?"_

_Ariana had furiously shaken her head. Her bare feet kicked out at them as a hand had wrapped in her hair and pulled her back, ripping her scalp as it elicited a scream of pain. Another blow to her face broke open her lip, snot and blood mixed with her tears as she gasped and sobbed against the hand that threatened to smother her. The first teen pushed her to the ground, kicked at her and demanded again that she opened the door. _

_Squatting down in front of her, he had leered into her face, laughing at her. "Want to see what we can do to little girls that play silly games? We'll teach you a grown up game. How'd ya like that?"_

_He nodded to the other two who then grabbed her arms as he reached under her dress and pulled her knickers down. "Want to see what we do? Maybe we should call you mum out here. Maybe she would like to play."_

_Ariana had clenched her jaw shut, refusing to talk, not understanding what they were doing, only knowing it was wrong. It made her feel dirty and it made her scared to think that they would hurt her mum. She tried to hold her legs together, sobbing even as her chest hurt with each breath she took knowing if she called out and her mum came to help the mean men would hurt her too. _

"_Shite, listen…someone is in kitchen. Get her around the shed."_

_The dragged her by the arm, flinging her into the wooden fence and the first one that had talked delivered a kick to her head before brushing off his clothes and squatting down next to her again. "Next time you will do as you're told."_

"_Come on, let's get out of here."_

"_Yeah, leave the snivelling brat alone. Next time we'll make sure that bloody brother of her's is with her."_

Percival could not find the words to tell Kendra all of what had happened as they stuck in his throat and pushed tears to his eyes. He could only tell her that he knew who they were, that Ariana had used magic and had tried to defend herself. He would always remember the look of abject horror on his daughter's face and hear her pleading as the boys taunted her and the sickening sound as her arm had snapped.

"I need to see Albus," he said as strongly as he could. "I need to make him understand."

"He is too young. Percival, no…you cannot tell him all of it…not what they tried to do to her…please. How do you explain that to a child?"

"How do you not? How do I not tell him what he needs to know? Do you want your sons to be beaten next? Do you want them all taken way from you?"

Against even Honoria's advice, Albus was sent home to see his father, leaving Aberforth to stay back with his Aunt. The younger boy stood at the window, his hand pushed against the glass watching as his big brother walked down the pavement, wondering what he had done so wrong that his father did not want to see him and why his mother had not interceded.

He was a big boy and refused to cry even as he felt the bubble of tears behind his eyes. His aunt come to stand behind him and then squatted down to talk. He turned and looked into her eyes, feeling lost and abandoned and knew she did not understand. Pushing her away, he ran to the room he was sharing with Albus, slamming the door against the flat- eyed woman that kept him from going home and finally let his tears fall as he sobbed for his father that hadn't asked for him.

Percival closed he shop and put a sign in the window that due to unforeseen circumstances he would be sending back the books left for translations and all monies already paid would be refunded. He led Albus into the now quiet and darkened office, shutting the door and began to pace.

"Do you understand what has happened?'

"Someone hurt Ariana?"

"Yes," Percival stopped walking to look down at his son, waiting to see if he offered more information. "Do you know why?"

"No, only that she was left alone in the…"

"That has nothing to do with it. She used magic and was found out by those evil enough to do this. Do you understand now what can happen if you use your Magic in front of them?"

"Yes, sir," Albus nodded, not understanding what magic his sister could know that was so bad.

"We must protect those that can not protect themselves. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir."

"When we protect those that cannot protect themselves we put ourselves at risk. However, when it is our loved ones that are threatened we have no choice."

Albus nodded his head, knowing this was the response his father wanted and that it somehow related to his sister.

"I expect you to help your mother watch over Ariana. Do you understand?"

"Yes…I guess."

"No, you will not guess at this you will do it." He raked his hand through his hair and sighed deeply. "She is not…the same…Albus. She was greatly injured and must be watched over."

"Is her arm still broken?"

"No, the Healer fixed it," he said, sitting in his chair and opening his arms to Albus who came to stand between his legs and hug his father's neck. "Albus, listen closely…it was not just her arm that was broken. Her head was broken as well as her will. It is a serious thing that affects her magic so you must be careful not to anger her. She will not mean to hurt you, but she could do so without knowing it."

"Ariana would never hurt me, Dad."Albus was perplexed at his father's warning and felt an uncomfortable feeling creeping up his back.

"I have to go away for a while and I need your promise that you will help your mother. Your bother is still too young, but you are a big boy now, almost ready to go off to school."

"We could make a Wizard oath," Albus said excited at the idea of a grown up promise.

"No," Percival chuckled, ruffling his sons hair. "You are still too young of that, just your word is good enough and you only need oaths from those you do not completely trust."

"Dad? Who hurt her?"

"I don't want you to worry abut that. Nor do I want you to think all Muggles are like the ones that did this. There is evil in this world, evil that doesn't care what side of magic it is on."

"Will they come back?" Albus asked what had worried him since the night they had sent him away in such a rush.

"No, they will never hurt anyone again," Percival said firmly.

Kendra watched Albus leave as Percival began to dress as if he was preparing to go into London. Kendra wondered what business he would have and asked if he was going to the main Ministry, meeting only stony silence in return. She watched as he emptied his pockets and removed his gold watch and fob, laying it gently on the chest of drawers. He looked at her coldly and started to leave the room when she grabbed his arm and tried to make him look at her.

"I don't know what you want of me. You say you do not blame me yet you will not talk to me. Tell me what you want."

"Your daughter will be hungry soon. You should start…"

"Damn you Percival! Where are you going?"

"I will not be home again. You need to resolve yourself to…"

"You are leaving me?" she whispered, sitting on the edge of the bed as her legs began to give out.

"This is not a decision I have made lightly," he said coldly. "However, it is the correct one. You will understand after you have had time to distance yourself from the past few days."

"As you have distanced yourself from me?"

"Yes."

She stood and wiped her face with her sleeve. "I once asked you if you loved me. Your answer was that you did not know what love was. I see you have yet to learn, or yet to love me."

Percival, for the third time in his life, felt his mind completely incapable of putting into words what he felt. This woman if front of him was not the young girl he had first seen in the market, nor the older woman whom he had travelled to London to bring home. This was not the same shy woman who had taken three months of marriage before willingly coming to his bed. This was his breath he stood in front of, for surely he needed her to live the same, as he needed air to breathe.

However, this time, it was better not to answer. This time it was better to have her angry with him and want him gone and help her to move on. He heard her sobs as he strode to the front door, and without so much of a pause, he was gone.

The boys came home to a sombre place, not the home they had left. When they ran to the shop and found the rooms darkened and their father gone, they had asked Kendra where he was and received only silence in return and a harsh order to sit at the table and get to their studies. Albus watched her closely, his head lowered to his books, but his eyes always following her. She was different towards him, cold and distant, and he wondered if his father had told her about there being evil men in the world or if it was a secret between only the two of them.

It was late, after tea, when two men from the Ministry came. They introduced themselves, and handed Kendra a sack containing Percival's clothes and a short declaration of the charges against him. She sat at the table, not hearing what they said as she lifted his shirt to her nose and breathed in his scent. They droned on, giving her a brief synopsis of Percival's last day as her eyes scanned the parchment they had given her reading the list of charges.

"He would not do this." She held the missive up to them, as if in accepting it into their hands they could undo everything. "He never would have hurt children."

"The oldest was but fifteen." The Auror frowned. "Mrs. Dumbledore, he freely admitted using Unforgivables on the victims. What we do not understand is why. Did he say anything that would lead you to believe he was planning this?"

"No," she stood up stiffly, praying that Ariana would not use this moment to come into the room, and walked to the door, opening it and standing to the side to let them leave. "He is innocent."

"He has already confessed and his wand tested. Do not make the mistake of thinking he is anything but guilty. We are here to find out not what happened, but why."

"I will ask that you leave," she whispered, holding the door open wider. "My husband has left me as you must know since you have spoken to him. If he is guilty of anything it is that he abandoned his family."

"He will not be returning, Mrs. Dumbledore. We are transferring him to Azkaban in the morning. However, in light of this new information perhaps it is best that we leave." The Aurors looked at each other, feeling uncomfortable that she did not seem to understand what was happening.

"Azkaban?" She whispered, clenching her fist around her brand.

"He well be at the docks in the morning for final transportation. If you wish to see him you will be granted ten minutes."

She had listened closely to the directions to the docks, requested that Honoria's maid come and watch the children, hired a buggy and set off for the long ride, arriving well before the appointed time. Standing on the wooden platform that led to the dock, she heard the sound of Apparation and turned to see Percival. He stood unmoving, flanked by two Aurors who held onto his arms although he was manacled and chained.

She nodded to him, and saw the set of his jaw as his face hardened. He pulled against the chains and ordered the Aurors to take him to the ferry, not wanting to have Kendra see him like this. They stepped back and waved her over, giving them their last ten minutes together on a public dock.

"Percival," she said his name quietly in way of greeting, not knowing what to say now that she stood in front of him.

"You should be home with the children. I do not want you here."

She let her gaze drop to his feet, unable to watch his eyes try to avoid hers. "I do not want to be here. I came only for your children. What will you have me tell them?"

"Only what they must know," he said evenly. "You should have no problem finding lies to fill in what you find distasteful."

"They said the oldest boy will never walk again, and the youngest has lost his sight. How do I tell the children this? How do I tell them that those boys took away not only Ariana but their father as well? Did you not think of your sons? Do you not love at least them?"

"And your daughter will never be whole, never have a family of her own. I did what had to be done, nothing more."

"And now she will not have you," Kendra said, lifting her head and searched his face. "Was our life so bad together that you can throw it away so easily?"

Percival tried to lift his head and steadied his breath, wanting her to leave him in anger, to be able to set him aside and move on with her life. "I have always thought of our life together as convenient, nothing more."

Kendra pulled the reigns and guided the team onto the path that led away from the docks, not looking back, and not able to clearly see the road through her tears. She did not understand him and did not want to. Convenient, she thought. Convenient to throw her away and destroy his family name, convenient to have his children live as paupers in a Muggle world that would never forgive or a Wizard world that would never forget.

She suddenly thought of her mother's world and knew that in a different time and a different place he would have songs sung of him and have had a feast in his honour for defending his daughter and making sure such a horror was never visited on another. There his sons could have been proud of him. Only here in this place and in this time she knew, she would be forced t keep his secret if her sons were ever to hold their heads up again. It did not matter that he had cast her away, only his children mattered and they were now only hers. She would raise his name back up through his sons, and knew that one day this whole damned world would know his name and the name of Dumbledore would be said with pride.


	6. Teaching Secret Keeping

**Disclaimer: Not mine. **

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**Keeping Secrets**

**Chapter 6**

**Teaching Secret Keeping**

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The market was abuzz with rumours and speculation about three youths that had been brutally attacked. It was not long before the gossipmongers began to assign names to who may have committed the crime nor was it long before their attention turned to even the most steadfast and reliable amongst them.

Percival's sudden disappearance had not gone unnoticed. His name added to the list of potential perpetrators and passed on to the local police, who soon wanted him for questioning. Even his boys were looked at oddly and whispers behind hands and in the back of stalls made it to their ears. Kendra tried to explain what had happened while not giving them more information than she thought they could understand, seeing the look of hurt and betrayal in Aberforth's eyes and curiosity in Albus'.

Kendra was now one of _those_ women that had no place in society. The women at the market avoided her, looked down their noses and smirked as they proudly hugged their husband's arm when she walked by. She was not married, and not unmarried. She was assigned to that undefined realm of unwanted woman whose husbands would rather live without, than to live with, and willingly abandoned their children and fortune to be rid of. The husbands of the Muggle women looked at her hungrily, letting their eyes wash over her and knowing of only one reason a man would leave a woman who looked like this and wondering if it were true, and if it were, would she also favour them.

She began to use Honoria's maid for the shopping, only going to the green grocer, owned by a wizard and an old friend of the Dumbledore family, until the day they refused to serve her. In this world, her husband's name was not whispered. Here it was openly thrown out as a warning to children. The magical children would call out insults, call Percival a rabid dog and mock his children as they held tightly to their mother's hand, not understanding why she did not put a stop it and defend their father.

Aberforth became quiet, spending more time inside his room or turning the pages of picture books for Ariana, no longer attempting to struggle through the words and read the story. He avoided the garden and used Ariana's wish of a book to keep him safely in doors. Kendra tried to encourage him to take care of the goat, insisting that growing a stone in the Bezoar's stomach had indeed been a good idea, wanting to see some spark of interest in his eyes. Failing that, she left him alone, hoping that time and distance from the hurt he felt over his father's slight in not seeing him before he left would soon diminish.

Albus had demanded that she not get rid of all of his father's books, not understanding the fortune that was tied up in the pages, nor the fact that their income had been taken away. By Kendra's ciphers, they would be able to live for years on the galleons she received by selling just half of what sat on the shelves and wondered that they had been able to afford them at all. She allowed Albus to fill one crate to keep as his own, making sure that he packed them away until he was old enough to understand what they contained. However, on dark quiet nights, she would find him hiding under his blankets, the tip of his practice wand emitting a small glow as he read the forbidden books.

"Albus, I have told you to put them away. Must I put a charm on the crate not to open? Can I not trust you?"

"Ah, Mum," he had whined. "This one isn't even about spells. It's sort of like…history maybe."

"You leave for school at the end of the summer. From what I understand, you will learn your magical history there. At home you study Muggle history."

"Not that kind," he said, excited to share what he had found. "It says here that a long time ago Wizards were known to the Muggles and had lots of jobs better than them. The Pharaohs all had magicians, and even before that Wizards didn't have to hide."

"The world has changed. Our ways were not understood and led people to fear," she reached out and ruffled his hair. "Now, put away your wand and get to sleep."

"What if it happens again? Dad always says it is important to know history because everything that happened will happen again. What if it does? What if we don't have to hide? It would be better. Right? It would be better if we were in charge and not the Muggles…wouldn't it?"

"He meant that as a cautionary tale. You need to recognise evil when it starts, while it can still be stopped…like…wars and…"

"If Wizards ran the world we wouldn't have wars and all the bad things. Muggles mess everything up," he pouted, "look what they did to Ariana. It's their fault Dad had to go away. If we ran things it would be different."

Kendra made a pretence of stoking his palm as she gazed at the crisscrossed lines that she could barely understand. She had never seen such a hand, as if two lives lived in one and each was fighting for control. Lifting her eyes to his she saw Percival in him and a hunger she could not phantom. Sadly she pulled him to her with a deep sigh. "Talk like that will bring more suspicion to you father. I do not want you thinking like this, and do not be putting ideas in your brother's head. You may have to fight someday, but I fear the fight will be within yourself not a grand war to find honour in."

After Kendra had sold the books and closed the shop she found she no longer needed such a large house. She found a smaller place in Godric's Hollow and hoped the small sleepy village would suit her needs. Hoping to put distance between Percival's crimes and her children's future, she prepared to move at once. The small clapboard house, sat off the main street, the market within easy walking distance and the few neighbours were of old families that she hoped would remember when the name Dumbledore had once been good.

Honoria and her husband helped with the move. Although Kendra was sure the help was offered as a guise to see the children and to impart information she had no choice but to hear. Percival, Honoria told her pointedly, was not well. He was refusing to eat and refused their visits that had only been approved after a small sack of gold had been pressed into the guard's hand. She told Kendra of the cold dank cells, the absence of light and horrid conditions that were worse the Kendra had seen in London those many years ago.

Kendra listened, showing nothing on her face, trying to ignore the chatter and not respond to it. She had unpacked the remaining crates, stacking the dishes on a shelf above the sink as Honoria blathered on.

"If they need money for his upkeep I will send it," she said, keeping her back turned to Honoria, knowing in the Muggle jail she had gone hungry when her money had ran out. "He is the father of my children, I owe him that."

"He is your husband! Have you even tried to see him?"

"That is not my husband that sits up there. I do not know who that is. He is stranger not Percival, a stranger."

Honoria leaned against Kendra's back, wrapped her arms around her waist, resting her head on her shoulder. "I don't know what he said to make you feel this way…he loves you. I know he does."

"No," Kendra choked, finally releasing her pent up tears. "He left me. If he loved me he would be here. He said…"

"He is an arse…that does not mean he doesn't love you. Kendra, listen to me." She let go of Percival's wife and turned her to see her face. "The only thing he ever stood up to my father for was you. When he as younger…before you met him…he was…cold. He never wanted anything more than his books…then one day he brought this scrawny half starved witch to my back door and I had never seen him so happy."

"He said I had been convenient," she said thinly. "He wanted children and I …you didn't see him. You didn't see the way he looked at me…he blames me. He blames me for not watching her. He would have cursed me if not for the children…"

"How can you think that?" Honoria shushed her and then backed away as the children came into the room, meaning to finish the conversation later, not realizing that Kendra's anger would stand between them forever.

Kendra could not tell her it was the way he had avoided her eyes, the way he could not bring himself to hold her when Ariana had lain so close to death or the way she had hungered for his touch…just to have her hand in his, and how he had denied her even that. At night, she found it difficult to sleep. Waking at every creak of a floorboard, the slap of a loose board or the sound of a buggy passing the house, she would roll over and try to forget the look on his face as he had walked out of her life. She tried to remember the way he had lowered his head to one for the babies as each had been born. However, over time, she lost the ability to remember the good, and only remembered the way he treated her on their last day.

Kendra had waved Albus off to play, glad that he seemed excited about Hogwarts and gladder still that he had made friends with other boys who although would not receive their own letter for a year yet, seemed to accept him as one of their own. Aberforth was sitting on the sitting room floor with Ariana, helping her to cut pictures from the catalogue and pasting them onto pieces of corrugated paper, making play pieces for the house she imagined she would some day have. Kendra was heating the oven, sliding in small pieces of wood, when the front door blew open, a cold wind blasting into the house, through the kitchen and bursting the back door outwards, slamming it against the clapboards.

She dropped to her knees, wrapping her arms around her waist as the image of Percival came to her so strongly that she could feel his hand on her cheek and hear his whispered words of love in her ear. Opening up her hand, she traced the line that was Percival and knew that his own lifeline had just ended as surly as she knew that hers did not have long. Hearing her children's voices and their feet thundering towards the kitchen she stood and prepared to tell them of their fathers death.

It was most difficult for Albus, to grieve only in the confines of the home, to wear a black armband that he removed when he left the house and was repeatedly told to keep the secret of his father. Ariana was confused to see the mirrors draped with black cloth and her mother act so sombre. Aberforth tried to tell her it was her father as well as his that had died, but she only tilted her head and looked at him oddly, telling him her Mum and Dad were safe because the bad men had not come back, it must be only his that was gone.

When Albus left for school, the job of entertaining Aberforth and Ariana fell on her full time, as well as all household chores and ensuring the children's safety. She did not allow Ariana outside. Kendra drew the curtains and used old news papers, flattened onto the glass, to make sure no one could look in and see the silver haired child as she became harder and harder to hide. She dressed the girl in clothes fashioned from the fabrics of her own unused dresses, or she would buy fabric from a catalogue, unable to have the town's people see her buy anything for a young girl.

Aberforth became Ariana's only companion and playmate. He sat with her on the floor and guided her hand to wrap a string around a spinning top, helped her pull it hard and fast, delighted to see her memorized by the whirling colours as it skidded across the floor. If the top happened to disappear under the sofa, or if one of her paper-cut-out dolls ripped, he would try to head off the anger that flooded over her, and hold her hands down to stop her magic from being unleashed.

After Albus left for his second year, Aberforth again tended the goats, often taking Ariana with him if the sun was close to setting and the road was unusually quiet. Gone was the Bezoar and back were two milk goats that needed daily attention. As the holiday season came closer he was sent to the market for sugars and dried fruit that Kendra make into sweet breads and biscuits, making all of Albus' favourites in anticipation of his return. Ariana pouted, and refused to eat, when after spending all day in the kitchen Kendra had not prepared what she wanted.

It was only Aberforth that could quell the child's anger and make her calm when her uncontrolled magic lashed out. On warm summer days, between terms at Hogwarts, Ariana would beg Albus to take her for walks or for Aberforth to let her milk the goats. They would both refuse, both feeling sorry of her to be cooped up all day in the hot dark house. Both knowing that she should not be seen.

The townspeople whispered about a child that was hidden away, gossiped about the Dumbledore squib that was kept out of sight, and speculated that she was the cause of Percival leaving his family and turning him dark. Wouldn't any proud father, any pureblood wizard do the same? Wouldn't anyone from a family as illustrious as his be shamed to sire a squib and become mad with the knowledge?

It was Kendra's fault they said. It was her bad blood and dubious background that was the cause, not Percival's. She refused to mention her background and let the gossipmongers think what they would. Better for them to think she came from a poor magical family than one in the Muggle world and better for her son's name that she be put to fault and not the name of Dumbledore.

Kendra steadfastly refused to chat with others at the market or when forced into a situation with others. She would offer a polite greeting if someone made the first overture to a conversation, then quickly turn away, silencing any further discussion, speaking only of her need to hurry because of a child with a strange illness she needed to tend. Knowing that the town gossips wanted nothing more than to add her name to their chats over tea, she was determined not to add anything they could use against Ariana. On occasion, she would stop at the potioneer's shop and purchase a vial they recommended after she described some illness that she knew did not exist in hopes of dispelling the rumours of a magicless child.

The summer after Albus' fourth term, Aberforth received his letter from Hogwarts. It would be harder now. Harder to keep Ariana happy, harder for Kendra to keep up the guise. Kendra prepared him the same way she had prepared her eldest son, warning him on what to say, cautioning him not to offer any information about this home life, and above all else, not to talk about his father.

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	7. The Final Secret

**Disclaimer: Not mine. **

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**Much of this chapter was written for the Hogwarts Online Forum's collaboration. It has been altered for inclusion here.**

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**Keeping Secrets**

**Chapter 7**

**The Final Secret**

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Albus returned from school at the end of his sixth year with all the confidence and arrogant behaviour of every other soon to be seventh year. He had been so sure that as an adult he would have free reign to do as he pleased that he had not been in the house for more than a few hours when they sat down to tea and he informed his mother of his plans for the future.

"I am going on tour," he had said in an offhand manner.

"I see," Kendra smirked and raised an eyebrow in his direction. "And how do you plan on doing this? With whom?"

"Elphias Doge. All wizards go to the continent. My father did the same thing. You know it is…"

"I know it is done by those that can afford it," she cut him short. "You will have to be prudent this year and save your allowance. I can afford very little extra."

"There was a seventh year that said we could stay with him while in Italy," Albus said with a shrug. "If we must we can stay with him and make day trips from his home."

"You will still need a new wardrobe and transportation to say nothing about eateries that will be much more than they are here." Kendra had laid down her knife and fork and leaned back in her chair. "The Herbologist in town was looking for help. Perhaps you could see if the position is still open for the summer."

"I hardly think getting my hands dirty will bring in enough to…"

"You work or you do not go." Kendra said tersely. "Unless you think the mighty Albus Dumbledore is too good to plant, in which case you may clean the goat pen and shovel out their droppings. I am sure Aberforth could use the extra spending money."

The rest of the summer passed too quickly for Kendra and not fast enough for the boys. Albus did work for the Herbologist and Aberforth spent his time with his sister, giving Kendra a much needed break. She knew this would be the last time Albus would call this house his home. Next year he would tour the continent and not want to come back to a small dark house. He was too ambitious, she thought, too vain, too much like his father always searching for more, and not enough like his father to find satisfaction in what was in front of him.

The week before he was due back in Hogwarts she handed him his yearly spending money with the list of supplies he would need to purchase.

"You still have the crate of books you can sell," she said quietly. "They would have all been yours if your father had not done what he did, leaving me with no means of support. If you chose to sell them that is your decision."

Albus frowned and shook his head. "I will leave them here. Your will have need of them for Ariana."

"I am worried as to her," she admitted. "I have nothing to leave her but the house and a house without money to buy food…I worry as to her."

"She will be taken care of," Albus scowled. "I promised my father I would take care of her."

Kendra nodded and changed the conversation to the new catalogue she had with pages of Muggle clothing at decent prices. Suggesting that he take it and show Elphias to begin planning how much money they would need before shopping for school supplies.

The day before they were to leave for Hogwarts, Aberforthhad sat at the kitchen table, hunched over his plate, shovelling food in his mouth as his sister sat next to him, staring out the window and pouting. He would on occasion cut his eyes to her, making sure she sat still and was not twisting her hair or fidgeting, which was the first signs that her anger was bubbling over and she would soon lose control.

"How's she doing?" Albus asked as he walked into the room and poured himself a cup of tea.

"Fine…for now."

"If Mum is taking you as far as Hogsmeade, what does she plan to do with _her_?"

"Auntie Honoria."

Albus nodded and pulled out his watch, seeing it was time to go as the front door bell rang. "See you at school."

"Mum said you were to go with us."

"Yeah, well, this is my last year and I am going with Doge. I told her we are going to overnight in Diagon."Grinning he opened the door and stepped out with Elphias, excited to see his friend after what had seemed the longest summer of his life. Giving each other a quick hug, they finished by slapping each other's shoulders and stepped back from one another, glancing around to make sure they had gone unnoticed.

"Thought this summer would never end." Albus shoved his hands in his pockets and started down the pavement with his long legged gait. "I hate this place. Talk about back water towns."

"I've got tonnes of information on the tour. Wait until you see what I have planned."

"Got it with you?"

"Right here," Elphias said patting his breast pocket. "We can get a room at The Leaky Cauldron and go over them tonight if you want. Train does not leave until ten. Just think, in less than a year we will be in Italy, France, Russia…I wish we could just toss it all and go now."

"We should get a room in Muggle London. Never know who we may run into at the Cauldron."

"Afraid?"

"No," Albus muttered, looking at Doge from the corner of his eye. "I just can't afford the gossip right now. You know how my Mum is."

"So we'll be careful." Elphias shoved his hands in his pockets, keeping his eyes on the pavement, matching his strides to Albus. "Come on, lighten up. We can have a last night in Diagon before Headmaster Black gets his teeth unto us again."

"We have to be careful this year. That old codger will use any excuse to get us tossed out on our arses."

"Me maybe," Elphias said laughing. "Not his great star pupil Mr. Dumbledore. My Merlin man, you give him bragging rights. I bet he already has your future laid out."

Albus could not help but feel a flush of pride at Elphias' comment. The Headmaster had indeed spoken to him about his future and what further studies he might consider. An unusual thing for the average Wizard to contemplate as most professions required an apprenticeship, not formal study for which he would have to travel to either Greece or Russia.

Albus had been further confused that as a member of the Gryffindor house Headmaster Black had singled him out over the Slytherins that he preferred. It had not taken long for the Headmaster to turn the conversation to Albus' father, a known Muggle hater and Azkaban prisoner that had died rather then give in to the Ministry's pressure. Albus had recognised the honour it gave his name in one house, while in his own the name Dumbledore was still a name of fear and loathing.

"You have a bright future ahead of you young man. Yes, yes, a bright future if only you can throw off the yoke of family ties. Your mother...she is not from around here?" The Headmaster had asked as he smiled and waved Albus to a chair.

"Her father was Welsh." Was all he had offered, keeping Kendra's secret.

"A pureblood?"

Albus had only looked up from under his brows, letting the question hang in the air as Headmaster Phineas Black had moved quickly to his desk and began rifling through his papers, knowing that he really was not looking for an answer and only talking to fill silence.

"Here it is. A school in Piter." He smiled widely and handed Albus the literature. "A fine city…the capital…so much to see…so much awaits you."

"Russia? Sir, my Russian is weak at best, and abyssal for study." Albus had tried to explain only to have Phineas wave his hand to silence him. Albus now remembered the feeling of pride and the worry that he could not master the language without a tutor, unwilling to admit such a thing aloud.

"I did learn Russian," he laughed and slapped Doge on the shoulder. "Even if I don't go to school there it should come in handy for our trip."

The two seventh years students made their way to the local pub, from which they flooed to The Leaky Cauldron. Once there, Albus stepped out to the back while Doge paid for a room and pocketed the key. Ginning as he joined Albus he tapped a brick wall with his wand and stood back as the stones realigned themselves to an open doorway.

"I never get tired of watching that," Albus said with a grin. "Where first?"

"We need dress robes."

"You can waste your money. I don't plan on going to any …"

"You have to," Elphias said quietly. "I hear that Black has had this planned since last year's event. Durmstrang is coming."

"I don't care if Merlin himself is there. I need to buy luggage. We won't be able to floo on tour."

"You could do something better," Doge laughed, pointing to a window display of old world Wizard's garb. "He always says he likes the old ways."

Albus lowered his chin to his chest and looked up under his brows, wondering what Headmaster Black would do if he showed up wearing flowing satin robes in blues and yellows. He started to grin and nodded his agreement then walked into the shop to find the most outlandish colours he could, while still dressing as a _proper _wizard.

They spent the rest of the day sauntering through the Alley, visiting shops they had not been in for a year, Doge making several purchases, Albus being selective and saving his money for the bookshop. Hearing Doge's stomach grumble Albus laughed and started toward The Leaky Cauldron where they had a late dinner, lingering over a glass of mead before they headed up to their room.

Morning came too quickly. Albus hurried through his bath, wrapped a towel around his waist and began to pull his school uniform out of his trunk as Elphias started his own daily toiletries. Muttering under his breath when someone knocked on the door, he stood and quickly slid his legs into his trousers, not taking the time to do the buttons or put on undergarments, and threw it open, ready to berate an early housekeeper.

"Mum?" he said, the air rushing out of his lungs.

"Is that how you dress to answer your door? I explicitly told you that you were not to come here," Kendra snapped as she pushed him aside and stormed into the room. "I would have come yesterday but couldn't leave your sister. Do you remember your sister? The one that is in tears because you did not so much as…"

Kendra stopped as Elphias opened the door to the loo and started to walk into the room, only a towel held in front of him to save his dignity. Spinning back toward Albus, she saw the set of his jaw and the lift of his chin that exposed a small purple mark on his throat, knowing in that moment what was happening.

"You will come home with me at once," she spat.

"No," Albus said evenly. "I…we…are taking the Hogwarts Express."

"I forbid it!"

"You are in no position to forbid anything. I am of age."

Kendra turned to the door, fumbling with the knob, unable to open it as she felt her eyes well with tears. Suddenly, Albus was behind her, his hand rested on hers as he helped her turn the rusty handle.

"I love you, Mum, but this is who I am," he whispered in her ear.

She turned and studied his face and looked over his shoulder to Elphias who stood toeing the floor, his chest flushed and a hint of colour rising up his neck.

"Albus." she sighed and laid her hand on his cheek. "Are you sure? Do you know how hard this will be? You know what will happen if…"

"I know."

"Promise me…promise me…"she stammered, unable to continue.

"I promise I will write Ariana a letter. You can read it to her."

"I don't mean that."

"I know. However, it is the only thing I will promise you right now."

She had to stand on her toes to reach his neck as she threw her arms around him and hugged him as tightly as she could, feeling his arms hesitantly slide weakly around her. "I love you, Albus. No matter what happens, I love you. I just want you to be safe and this…this will make you a target…you have to know that. You have to know how this world…and the Muggle world…frowns on this sort of thing."

"More than having a sister such as Ariana? More than having a father who died in Azkaban? I am quite the master at keeping secrets. You have taught me well."

"I don't understand it," she whispered.

"There is nothing to understand. You either accept it…or I leave."

"I have to go," she said uncomfortably, unable to meet his eyes, and unable to acknowledge the young man that obviously meant more to her son that she was able to grasp.

"Should I come home for the holidays?" Albus asked, waiting for her answer, knowing it would define the rest of his life.

"Yes, of course," she said with her voice shaking, then paused and visibly stiffened her back. "Elphias? You are of course welcomed as well."

Albus held the front of his trousers closed as he leaned out of the door and watched Kendra walk down the hall, feeling relief wash over him and a sense of family and love he had never experienced before, not knowing that he would never feel it again. Turning back to Doge he let his tears fall, seeing the look of surprise and wonder on his friend's face.

That term seemed endless to Kendra, so worried was she about her eldest son and his path in life. When he first arrived home in the early summer, she had been hesitant to leave him from her sight. She did his laundry, starching and pressing his cuffs and collars, showing him how to pack them for his trip to the continent and supplied him with a money belt to hide under his clothing as well as letters of introduction to those business associates of his father that she thought may not have heard of his crimes.

She hired a carriage and told Aberforth to take them to the train. Making sure that he understood to come directly home and tell her that they had been safely delivered. As he and his friend prepared to walk out of the door, laughing at her insistence that they arrive so early for the departure, she grabbed his hand, turned it over and kissed his palm before searching his face.

"Tell me you will always be there for Ariana."

"Of course I will," he said, confused at her sudden outburst, so unusual for her. "Have I given you reason to doubt?"

"You have a hard time ahead of you. You have power in your hand, a power it will take you too long to find and I fear you will loose your way," she said softly.

"Divination and nonsense, Mother," he said with the arrogance of youth.

She closed the door behind him, seeing Ariana pulling back the sitting room curtains her face a mask of rage. Slapping the glass with her open hand she called to Aberforth, demanding that he come back, that he not leave her alone.

"Ah, child," Kendra cooed, "he is only driving the carriage. He will be back in no time."

Kendra saw the radiating light that came unbidden from Ariana's hand and saw the look of incomprehension on the child's face. She did not feel the blast of magic or her life as it fled her. She felt only the warmth of Percival's arms as they engulfed her and heard his whispered words of love in her ear.

End

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A/N: Piter is the old name of St. Petersburg.

It would be nice to hear what you think of this story as it is a departure from what I normally do. Thanks in advance.


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